


Flowers of my Heart

by DragonGirl_Kitty



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki Disease, Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, No Smut, Slow Burn, cauthor, not on my good christian minecraft server
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2021-04-23
Packaged: 2021-04-25 18:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 60,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl_Kitty/pseuds/DragonGirl_Kitty
Summary: On the road to Caemlyn, Mat starts coughing up petals. The road to Caemlyn storyline and onwards from Mat's POVObligatory 'I suck at summaries'. This fic will undergo a lot of changes in tags and the summary.Uploads spontaneously
Relationships: Rand al'Thor/Mat Cauthon
Comments: 83
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy.  
None of these boys belong to me. Sadly.  
Set in Book 1, starts at page 484 in my copy of the book. The narrative follows the storyline of Mat and Rand on their GayVenture to Caemlyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so starting off. I must warn you that its slow burn so we're building pretty slow.

He was bloody sick of it all. Sick of living in the back of wagons and scruffy back rooms of numerous inns. Sick of sore wrists from juggling for hours just to earn enough to eat that day. Sick of walking, sick of being chased; constantly paranoid and looking over his shoulder for a Fade following them. And now, it’s gotten even worse. Light above, he missed the days back happily in Emonds Field, he even missed travelling with Moraine.  
  
Gode’s shouts and the pounding of his henchmen’s fists against the door echoed with the thunder roaring above them. Lightning sent a bright flash that washed out the warm light of the lamp.  
  
“Blood and ashes, Rand, there’s no way out!” Mat shouted but Rand didn’t seem to hear him. He examined the room, jerking his head towards the door as it slid open another inch. Mat watched the window, wondering if they could make an escape there.  
  
Gode bellowed again, his voice almost drowned out by the rain; “Open this door and submit to The Great Lord so that he can-”  
  
Mat heard the ringing in his ears before he felt the ground below him. He grasped at the crates above him that slowly were beginning to crush him. Shakily, he stood, patting at his limbs. Light, he wasn’t sure if they were still there. Mat blinked rapidly, peering over to his friend. Rand stood solidly in the middle of the room, an aching light radiating from the lamp beside his feet. A grin split Mat’s face as he watched his friend stare back at him.  
  
“Rand? Is that you? You’re alive. I thought we were both-“ his voice cut off as he realised how hard it was to see. He laughed quietly, body shaking as he tried to contain the hysterical laughter building from the irony that things had somehow gotten worse yet again.  
  
“What happened, Mat? Mat? Mat! What happened?“  
  
Mat calmed his laughter enough to answer Rand, the concern in his friend’s voice sending pains through his chest. “Lightning, Rand. I was looking right at the window when it hit the bars. Lighting. I can’t see worth-” He broke off from his rambling as he spotted the vague outlines of the door. Suddenly he was more alert, his voice sharp and clear. “Where’s Gode?”  
  
Rand looked towards the door, and then to the window. Mat could barely see now, slitted eyelids almost shutting out the pain. He watched Rand look to the ceiling, where people could be heard running in the other floors of the inn.  
  
Their room in the inn was destroyed, half a wall missing and rubble filling the room. Some of the rubble was burnt around them, and Mat coughed as the smoke rising from it passed through his lungs.  
  
“Lets go while we can,” Rand said. Mat nodded, hoping Rand could see better than he could. It was as if the lamp had gone out.  
  
The loud noises of pallets being moved beside him made him jump. Suddenly, Mat felt Rand’s warm calloused hand gripping his. Sparks shot out from the touch and he felt them settling in his chest as Rand tugged him onwards. Mat clutched him arm like a lifeline, head forward and eyes strained to see where they were going. He stumbled forwards and felt rain on his face.  
  
Mat felt Rand stop walking and followed his lead, still confused why it hurt to use his eyes. “What is it?” Mat held. He held his hand up to his own face. A small chuckle escaped his throat, and he remarked quietly to himself; “Blood and ashes! I can barely see my own bloody hand.”  
  
“Nothing,” Rand said in response to his first question. Mat felt his friend shiver as he guided him along. “Just the lightning.”  
  
They stumbled in ruts in a hurried run away from The Dancing Cartman inn. Mat grasped Rand’s arm with his other hand to stay steady, almost hanging off his friend as they tripped and fell through the roaring storm around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry. Mostly just that scene from Mat's POV, only a few changes from canon and a little bit of shippiness. If I can convince my beta to check chapter two I might post it on Thursday.  
Also, please check Insomnia_Production's Cauthor fics if you haven't already. They're incredible and give me life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mat and Rand take shelter after escaping the inn.

Rain poured on through the night, deep crashes of thunder making Mat jump and stumble. His clothes were becoming soaked as Rand pushed them both through the rain.

How long had they been running? Surely an hour at least, even his skin felt sodden. Every time a strike of lightning flashed across the sky he winced and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Then he would trip on something, nearly bringing Rand down with him.

His hair was slicked across his face, the hood of his cloak too drenched to shield him from the rain. They slowed to a quick walk, Mat tripping too much to move any faster.

Maybe Rand would leave him here, declare him a waste of energy and taking up too much time. Maybe he would leave him to be killed by the Fades that certainly followed them.

“Rand,” he rose his voice to be heard over the thunder booming above them.  
“You won’t leave me, will you?” his voice quavered. “If I can’t keep up?”

“I won’t leave you.” Rand squeezed his hand, and Mat felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “I won’t leave you no matter what.” A sudden jolt of thunder scared Mat through his bones and he jumped in fear, only Rand’s strong grip stopping him from pulling them both down.  
Rand sighed. “We have to stop, Mat. If we keep going, you’ll break a leg.”

A spike of fear shot up his spine like an icicle. “Gode.” He wasn’t even sure if Rand heard him over the storm.

“He’s dead.”

Mat nodded dumbly in the darkness and let himself be led forward once more by Rand.

The other boy stopped and released his hand and Mat found himself missing the contact. Mat held his hands out in front of him as he searched for Rand between flashes of lightning. Rand suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him under a hedge, peeling his sopping cloak off in the process and laying it over the branches.  
Mat shivered violently, curling in on himself under the foliage. With the leaves and cloaks protecting them from the worst of the downpour, Rand crawled in, faring no better against the chill.

Rand laid down, tremors wracking his body. Mat reached blindly for his warmth, sliding his fingers across Rand’s arm.

He pressed his body flush against his friends, legs wrapping over him in an attempt to leech as much heat as possible. There were far better ways to keep warm, but he could feel his eyelids drooping as the cold made him drowsy. He buried his face into Rand’s neck, breathing down his shirt warmly. Rand caressed the arm slung over his waist, shivering into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a lot of shippy moments, but cause it's slow burn there's not much communication/ acknowledgement of it yet. I get to have fun torturing you all with the wait. Sorry it was so short.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mat talks with Ba'alzamon in his dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if anyone noticed but it was an hour late, so sorry about that.

Mat found himself back in Two Rivers, calm in the familiar surroundings. He walked down the rutted street, confused where everyone had gone. Was there something going on he had forgotten about? Mat walked further along the street, feeling more and more out of place with every step.

Everything seemed too close. Housed that had never been near each other sat with house tiles touching, subtly out-of-place apple trees lingered in spaces thy weren't supposed to be.

By the time the Dancing Cartman appeared in his vision, Mat knew that he must be dreaming. Nothing about the inn was as bright as it had been before. Even the bright colours of the building seemed pale and faded. He cautiously pushed open the door and nearly screamed when he saw Gode sitting at a table.

Only his silk and dark velvet clothes left him recognisable, his face marred with jagged red cracks burning across his skull-like features. As his head swivelled chunks of hair flaked off his burnt scalp, and his eyeballs rolled in their sockets.

He closed the door behind his back. “Rand was right. You’re dead.” Why was his voice shaking? It was only a dream.

“Yes.” Ba’alzamon’s voice crackled through the air, scaring him out of his skin. Mat looked about wildly as the voice went on, “but he did find you and your friend for me. That deserves some reward don’t you think?

“You see, youngling, you cannot hide from me forever.” His face flickered between rage, hate, and triumph. “One way or another I find you. You may think it safe to stay with your friend, but one day he will lead me to you. Better to submit to me now, youngling, than to have me seek you both out.”

Ba’alzamon reached out his hand to Mat. “Submit to me. Submit to me and I’ll raise you above all others. It has been foreseen. You belong to me.”

Mat leaned casually against the door, trying to mask his fear. He reached into his pockets, pulling out his juggling balls. He threw them up in succession, easily catching them and throwing them back into the pattern. “I belong to no one.”

Ba’alzamon disappeared from his seat, appearing with a flash a mere foot away from him. The fires in his eyes flared as he spoke again. “Insolent fool!” A hot hand grabbed Mat’s throat, pushing him off the ground. “I will make you beg for my mercy.” The brightly coloured balls fell to the floor. “You will kneel at my feet.” The other hand reached to his head, claws slithering from his fingers, sinking into Mat’s face.

Mat came awake with a whimper, tears dripping down his face.

“My eyes! Oh Light, my eyes. He took my eyes!”

Warm arms closed around him, pulling him into his chest as if cradling a baby.

“You’re all right, Mat.” Was he?

“You’re all right.” Hadn’t he already been blinded that night?

“He can’t hurt us.” Us. It’s always about Rand.

“We won’t let him.” Could he trust his friend?

He sobbed pitifully, coughing into Rand’s chest. Mat left his arms wrapped around Rand as they sat together under the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my dad for helping me write the Ba'alzamon speech haha. I didn't want to use the dialogue from Rand's dream, and I wanted to play more into the mischievous nature of Mat. I hope you liked it :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mat and Rand continue travelling and Mat fears that his trust in Rand might be misplaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wrote a ton of chapters and really wanted to send this one early. Most chapters from now on will have 1000+ words, and if there's two chapters with 500ish words I'll upload one on Monday and one on Thursday.

Mat had never thought of a sunrise as beautiful. Sunrise meant getting out of his warm bed. Sunrise meant a hard days’ work ahead of him. This sunrise greeted them without warmth, but at least it marked the start of a new day.

Sometime during their sleepless night they had curled up against each other. The rain barely trickled and Mat groaned as Rand crawled out, taking his warmth with him. The smaller boy followed him, eyes closed against the sun. He groggily took the cloak bundled into his arms, slinging it uselessly over his shoulders.

Mat jumped at the sudden contact as Rand took his hand, pulling him onwards. Could he trust Rand? Would Ba’alzamon find him if they stayed together?

As they walked on Mat pushed down his fears and concentrated on keeping forward. He still let Rand guide him, but walked beside rather than being pulled along.

The silence stretched awkwardly.

“Blood and ashes,” Mat complained, “the rain’s probably soaked my bloody bowstring.”

Rand sighed. “You can’t change it yet, we have to keep going.”

“Why can’t we stop?” Mat whined in protest, dragging his feet in the dirt.

“The Fade chasing us, woolhead.”

Mat had no idea how to tell the time if he couldn’t see. It seemed a few hours later that the ground felt more solid against his feet. Rand pulled him to the side of the road, one hand resting in the small of Mat’s back.

“Crouch down,” he whispered, “I don’t want that farmer to see us.”

Mat rolled his eyes but obliged, creeping along beside him with Rand’s hand still on his back. He could feel his legs stiffening as they walked, stopping to stretch when his friend finally deemed it safe enough.

The sun felt warmer, drying their clothes to at least damp before Mat heard a wagon approaching them. He peered through slitted eyes with a hand over his brow, murmuring about how bright the bloody sun was.

To Rand’s obvious surprise the wagon stopped beside them, and the man offered them a lift. Mat closed his eyes again as Rand accepted the offer, leading him to the side of the wagon and helping him onto the seat with a nudge to Mat’s rear end. He blushed pink and coughed, cracking his eyes open. Rand clambered over him to sit next to the driver who laughed as Mat turned even pinker.

Alpert Mull, as the solid man introduced himself, talked throughout the entire ride. He started off by telling them about how his son had found a lovely young man just like the two of them, and then how badly the weather had been affecting the farms around the area, leaving the cows dry and the chickens eggless. He complained that the pastures had dried up and for the first time in his memory (Mat was sure that was a long time) he’d had to buy hay. Mull grumbled over the man giving him such a small amount for such a high price.

Alpert Mull mused whether any of the farms in his town would get any hay on their own lands. “The Queen should do something, the Light illuminate her.”  
The man stopped the cart and let the boys down, Rand assisting Mat. The man took a sharp intake of breath, hesitated, and then said quietly, “I don’t know what you’re running from, and I don’t want to. I have a wife and family. You understand? My family. It’s hard times for helping strangers.”

What did this man mean? Was he going to kill them?! He reached his hand under his coat for the dagger, hoping to get him before he could get them, but Rand’s firm grip on his wrist stopped him. Mat tugged again, but Rand held on.

“If I was a good man,” Mull said, “I’d offer a couple of lads soaked to the skin a place to dry out and get warm in front of my fire. But it’s hard times, and strangers… I don’t know what you’re running from, and I don’t want to. You understand? My family.”

Mat heard a rustle of fabric and shielded his eyes, watching the man pull out two long, thick, dark scarves from his coat pocket and hold them out.

“It’s not much, but here. Belongs to my boys. They have others. You don’t know me, understand? It’s hard times.”

“We never even saw you,” Rand agreed quickly, releasing Mat’s wrist and climbing back into the wagon to take the scarves. “You _are_ a good man. The best we’ve met in days.”__

_ __ _

The conversation paused and Mat closed his eyes again, hearing the creak of wood as Rand climbed down. Rand took his hand.  
The reins whipped and the man turned his horses off the side of the road, presumably to his home.

__

Rand pulled Mat along again, running his thumb over the back of Mat’s hand.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Mat's POV. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed. It's about to get a lot more gay :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mat and Rand stay overnight in an inn. I'm really bad at summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When they get off the Caemlyn road I'm gonna be sad cause no more hand holding.

Dusk set in as the wind stiffened, and Mat could squint enough in the darkness to see the road in front of him. He kept holding tight to Rand’s hand, more out of comfort than necessity. 

“Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, when are we going to stop?” Mat repeated, childishly tugging on Rand’s hand.

“Once we find an inn.”

Mat huffed but kept walking, dragging his feet in the dirt.

Dusk turned darker and he was beginning to wonder if they would walk through the night. Rand slowed and Mat peeked out from under his eyelids, as Rand released his hand.

Mat heard Rand search his pockets for coins and his sigh of relief assured him they would have a room that night. Rand grabbed his hand again and led him towards flickering lights, looking like smudges in his vision.

“When are we going to stop?” Mat whined again, peering ahead at the vague lights in the distance.

“When we’re somewhere warm,” came the reply.

Mat closed his eyes as they entered the village, hiding from the lights and the stares strangers gave them for their joined hands. A door swung open and joyous laughter filled the silence of the night, fading as it swung closed again.

Rand paused and Mat could understand why. The laughter was so similar to that of the drunken patrons of The Dancing Cartman. Maybe they should find somewhere else. It wouldn’t do for them to be killed by a darkfriend. 

Rand pulled him onwards and Mat stuck close to him as the door opened. The floor beneath him felt firmer, and the laughter from the room was loud and raucous. 

Rand seemed more relaxed to be inside but Mat was still terrified of a knife at their throats or another betrayal.

He felt himself be pulled forwards as Rand comfortingly squeezed his hand. Mat felt less tense. Only a little less.

“Ah welcome!” A man’s sudden voice made Mat jump but he tried to conceal it and kept his head down. “I’m Rulan Allwine and you lads must be wanting a room out of that rain. Now I must ask you to pay in advance, what with all the…” the innkeeper’s voice petered off. “Not suggesting you’re the sort understand, but there’s some on the road who aren’t too particular about paying up come morning. Seems to be a lot of young folks headed for Caemlyn.”

Mat was still suspicious of Master Allwine’s inn, but he had to trust Rand in this. Yet when Mat heard the price the innkeeper demanded he choked on air and suppressed a cough. 

The innkeeper spoke forlornly, “Times are hard. There isn’t much, and what there is costs five times what it used to. Even a blanket costs far too much these days. It’ll be more next month, I’ll lay oath on it.”

Rand released Mat’s hand and reached into his own pocket, but Mat tugged on his sleeve.

“You want to sleep under a hedge?” Rand asked incredulously. Mat grumbled as he dug in his pockets and held out a fist for his friend to take the money.

Rand’s fingers brushed his and Mat pressed the money into his palm, ignoring the pink heat that tinged his own face.

Money clinked between Rand’s hands and Master Allwine’s. The innkeeper paused. “One blanket or two?”

“Blanket?”

The man blinked. “Do you want one blanket or two? It’s better on your pockets to take one.” He tutted and counted out the money.

“One, I suppose.”

“I’ll tell Lindell to bring you over a meal.”

Rand grabbed Mat’s hand and pulled him over to a table. They sat and Mat winced as he tried to open his eyes. He pulled out the scarf and wound it around his head, just over his eyes, grimacing hopelessly as he saw the strange look the serving maid gave them as she brought over their food.

Rand ate quickly and tried to get Mat to do the same. Instead, Mat savoured each bite, resisting the urge to make a rude gesture when Rand sighed repeatedly beside him. As soon as Mat had scooped the last spoonful into his mouth, Rand called over a serving maid. He left Mat while he went to ask Master Allwine for the room.

Mat nearly tripped as Rand pulled him from his seat to follow the innkeeper to their room. Master Allwine pushed open the door for them and lit a lone candle on the windowsill. Two narrows beds were pushed up against the other walls. He dropped a blanket on the closest bed and waddled out the door, shutting it roughly behind himself.

Rand blew out the candle as Mat unwrapped the scarf from his head. He blinked in his limited sight, squinting at the room around him. Rand unfolded the blanket and sighed.

“Mat, there’s only one blanket.”

“What?” Mat shot up from his perch on the other bed, “What do you mean only one blanket?”

“We had to pay for the blankets, I-“ he sighed again, “-I thought it was for each bed.” He held out the blanket to Mat. “Here you take it.”

Mat coughed, surprised that Rand would give it up so easily. “N-no you need it more.” He tucked his hands behind his back and coughed again, wetly.

“You’re coughing from the cold already, you have to take it.” Rand shook the blanket at him.

“But- I-” Mat watched as his friend dumped the blanket on the bed and laid fully clothed on his own bed.

Mat coughed as he squinted at the blanket. Blood and ashes, they could just share it. He stood up and shoved at the bedframe, surprised that it gave way so easily. He pulled from the other side and dragged the narrow bed across the floor, a deep whine resonating from the floorboards.

Rand rolled over awkwardly, avoidingq the sword at his hip. “What are you doing?”

“Moving the bed,“ Mat grunted.

“Why?”

“It’s bloody foolish for one of us to have the blanket. We can just share the Light forsaken thing.” He puffed as he pushed the two beds together.  
Rand stared with bewilderment as Mat stripped off his boots and climbed into the bed, throwing the blanket over both of them. It was warm, but he still shivered against the frost of the night.

The sword strapped to Rand’s hip dug into his leg, but Mat stayed quiet and rolled over, pressing his back into Rand’s.

“Stay still!” Rand hissed.

“Burn you, I’m trying to get away from that sword. You could just take it off.” Mat whispered.

“We could get attacked. Or something.”

“Blood and ashes,” Mat said and closed his eyes, hoping the morning would come soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy miscommunication. Also the boys cuddling is a bit of a motif. Thanks to my friend for the fabulous idea inspired by Victorian era inns who made you 'buy' blankets. That was a fun brainstorm. (I don't know if my friend wants me to link my tumblr so uh, if you read this dude just tell me.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mat sees a cute boy and quickly accuses him of being a Darkfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a fair bit of time, despite the short(ish) length. Even Robert Jordan is inconsistent with how blind Mat is, so any inconsistencies are just because I was also confused.

A crowing rooster woke Mat, and he could feel Rand stirring behind him, too. He blinked drearily, staring out towards the window.

“Hey! I can see!” Mat shot up out of the bed, peering around the room. An annoyed Rand sat up behind him, yawning audibly. Mat turned back around, squinting at him. “Some, anyway. Your face is still a little blurry, but I can tell who you are.” Mat knocked his chest confidently. “I knew I’d be all right. By tonight I’ll see better than you do. Again.”

Rand sprang out of the bed and started pushing Mat’s bed back across the room, scratching at his stomach. Subconsciously, Mat started scratching at his head.

“We’re wasting daylight,” Rand said. He brushed at his clothes, attempting to straighten out the creases from sleeping in the wet garments.

Mat attempted to stuff his feet into his boots, watching as Rand picked up the last of their belongings. He could see how much of a good mood Rand was in. That was unfair. Mat had slept rather restlessly, nearly rolling over every few minutes but not wanting to disturb his companion.

He jumped when Rand laughed suddenly, squinting as he pulled at his boots. They were itchy and dirty and too far away from Caemlyn, why was he so happy?

He picked up the last of their bags as he traipsed downstairs after Rand. When Rand’s good mood bought them an expensive, but admittedly great breakfast, Mat’s mouth hung agape.

Halfway through their meal, a strange young man entered the inn. He looked slightly older than they were, with a strange an air of awkwardness hanging about him despite his cocky walk. Long dark curls hung about his dark features, framing a confident expression on his face.

He swung a cloth cap around his finger, accidently dropping it as he laid eyes on the two boys. The stranger quickly bent over to pick it up, adjusting the feather attached to the cap. Something about him made Mat squirm, maybe the way his eyes stared them down through long dark lashes that Mat squinted painfully to see.

The stranger’s feet dragged as he approached them, running a hand through his hair and sending his curls fluttering like a flower disturbed by the breeze.

“Mind if I sit down?” Mat watched closely as the stranger swallowed.

Mat saw Rand nod out of the corner of his eye and glared suspiciously at the young man. Somehow the glare scared him, and the poor fellow froze halfway to his chair, until Rand nodded again.

“What’s your name?” Rand asked curiously.

“My name? My name. Ah… call me Paitr.” Suddenly his voice changed, almost sounding like he was pleading, “Ah… this is not my idea, you understand. I have to do it. I didn’t want to, but they made me. You have to understand that. I don’t-”

“Darkfriend.” Mat growled. He knew something was wrong when he first saw him, the way he looked about and made Mat feel sick in the stomach.

Paitr stared wildly around the room, looking as if he feared someone might overhear, despite the near empty common room. He perched, half standing from his chair. He slowly sat again and looked between the boys.

“Leave us alone,” Rand said, “And tell your friends to leave us alone. We want nothing from them, and they’ll get nothing from us.”

“If you don’t,” Mat added fiercely, “I’ll name you for what you are. See what your village friends think of that.”

Paitr’s face grew pale, “I… I heard what happened at Four Kings. Some of it, anyway. Word travels. We have ways of hearing things. But there’s nobody here to trap you. I’m alone and… and I just want to talk.”

“About what?” Mat asked, wincing as he heard Rand say, “We’re not interested.”

Guiltily, Mat looked over at Rand, the smaller boy coughing as their eyes met. “I-I mean,” Mat stuttered, looking back at Paitr, “We’re not interested.” He looked back over at Rand’s calculating gaze and shifting eyes.

All three stayed in silence for a painful amount of time, leaving Mat to quickly gulp down the rest of his food.

“Time to go, Mat.” Rand stood and Mat followed, watching as his friend leaned over the table and growled to the young man, “Leave us alone, Darkfriend. I won’t tell you again. Leave. Us. Alone.” Mat quickly searched for the doorway, the bright light radiating from it making a clear path for him. He couldn’t let Paitr see he was partially blinded.

He felt Rand push luggage into his hands and he took it and slung it over his shoulders. He made a beeline for the doorway, as quickly as he dared.

Almost to the door, he heard a chair screech and Paitr yelled out. “Wait!” He spoke again, desperation laced through his voice, “You have to wait.”

One foot in front of the other.

Mat couldn’t afford to stumble now.

“Leave us alone.” Rand kept walking.

Mat stopped as he heard the young man run up to them.

“Just listen to me!”

Mat turned to see Rand throwing a blurred punch toward Paitr’s nose. “I said, leave us alone!”

He felt a tickle in his throat as the Darkfriend fell on his bottom on the floor of the inn, clutching at a bloody nose. The man’s demeanour changed drastically. “You won’t get away,” he spat angrily, “No matter how strong you are, the Great Lord of the Dark is stronger! The shadow will swallow you!”

Mat ignored the feeling rising in his stomach as he watched Rand stand above Paitr, fist still raised, ready to strike. Rand’s whole body was tense, and his chest heaved. 

Mat barely heard the broom clatter to the ground.

The old man who had been sweeping had heard the Darkfriend’s words, and now stood staring at Paitr. Paitr stared back for a second, then quickly got to his feet and fled the inn.

As soon as Paitr was out of sight, Mat fell to his knees, coughing horribly. He hacked, attempting to dislodge something in his throat. Rand stood over him, concerned as his friend coughed and coughed. Finally Mat coughed something into his palm, and he wiped it on the back of his pants, disgusted.

He stood weakly, not noticing the red petal falling to the ground as Rand hurried him away from the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yass first petal. Also Paitr was so much fun to write, although I spent a few days puzzled over how to write a 'cute boy'. Mat likes his man protecting him, thats why he nearly choked on that petal.  
The gay-ness is really gonna hit next week, I hope you guys are prepared.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special update on Thursday (27th). 5+1 things, Rand POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favourite chapters to write, I hope you all liked it.

Back on the main road, Mat ranted fearfully, interrupted by small coughing fits. “Blood and ashes! They’re always there, always right on our heels. We’ll never-“ He cut himself off with a hacking cough and Rand took that moment to speak.

“No, they’re not. If Ba’alzamon knew we were here, do you think he’d have left it to that fellow? There’d have been another Gode, and twenty or thirty bullyboys. They’re still hunting, but they won’t know until Paitr tells them-“ Mat coughed again and Rand glanced down at him “- and maybe he really is alone. He might have to go all the way to Four Kings for all we know.”

“But he said-”

“I don’t care. We’re not going to lie down and let them take us.” Mat felt his face heat as he coughed again. He never got sick this easy - so what was happening to him?

During that day they got six rides. One driver talked for the whole trip, laughing at the rumours he’d heard of Darkfriends in the village. On each ride, the boys would get weird looks, sometimes questions, as Mat coughed continually.

In the longer rides, Mat would fall asleep, propped against Rand’s solid shoulder. Maybe it was just the stress of their travels, but Rand’s shoulder seemed far more comfy than the hay-stuffed pillows in the inns they had visited recently.

Rand reminded him of home. Waking at dawn and working past dusk back at Emond’s Field. It hit him like a punch, as he realised how homesick he was. It wasn’t that he regretted the journey, not one bit. Well, not all of it. He knew he would never be able to look at his home the same again, but he still missed the comfort of it. He missed Perrin and Egwene and even Nynaeve. And they were off lost somewhere, maybe dead. 

Probably dead.

But at least Mat had Rand.

Finally, they walked hand-in-hand through the dusk after the last wagon ride. In a town with thatched roofs, Rand pulled them in towards an inn. Mat could mostly see in the dim light, and studied the fearful expression on Rand’s face.

Mat patted the pocket where his juggling balls sat and said reassuringly, “I can see well enough, as long as I don’t try to get too fancy.” He pulled up the scarf from his eyes and was disappointed to see Rand still look so worried. He resisted the urge to grab his friend’s other hand as he stepped in front of him. “There can’t be Darkfriends at every inn between here and Caemlyn. Besides, I don’t want to sleep under a bush if I can sleep in a bed.”

Rand sighed, then nodded, a weariness coming over his body as his shoulders slumped. “They can’t be everywhere.”

As soon as they stepped into the inn, Mat regretted his decision, almost wondering if they should go sleep under a bush. The inn was crowded, every table filled and people leaning against the walls.

Rand managed to get the attention of the innkeeper, who led them into the kitchen away from the noise of the common room. The innkeeper was sweating profusely as he mopped his forehead.

“I suppose you’re on your way to Caemlyn to see the false Dragon like every other fool in the Realm.“ The innkeeper wiped the cloth over his face again. “Well, it’s six to a room and two or three to a bed, and if that doesn’t suit, I’ve nothing for you.”

Rand agreed and gave his usual spiel for them to entertain the guests. Mat prepared his juggling balls, only three, and threw them in a simple pattern, cautious with his impaired sight. Only a few notes into Rand’s playing of ‘The Old Black Bear’ and the innkeeper nodded impatiently.

“You’ll do. I need something to take those idiots’ minds off this Logain. There’s been three fights already over whether or not he’s really the Dragon. Stow your things in the corner, and I’ll go clear a space for you. If there’s any room. Fools. This world’s full of fools who don’t know enough to stay where they belong. That’s what’s causing all the trouble.”

He wiped his face, muttering as he left the kitchen. Nervously, Mat fiddled with the scarf over his head, adjusting it over his eyes and then pushing it back up, cyclically. He almost didn’t notice when Rand collapsed, teeth chattering as he sat blinking on the floor.

Mat knelt down and shook his shoulder. “Rand, are you okay? Rand! Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Rand stared blankly and Mat shouted for a serving maid to get the innkeeper, who came quickly.

Rand was clearly not hearing them shout as Mat pleaded with the innkeeper to let them have a room for the night. Finally, the man said they could sleep in the barn out the back, not wanting Rand to infect or scare away any customers with his sickness.

Mat pulled on Rand’s arms, like he would do with little Bodewhin when she was being particularly stubborn. He slung Rand’s arm over his shoulder and picked up their belongings, his shoulders pulled down by all the weight.

The innkeeper watched as Mat led Rand to the back door, supporting most of his friend’s weight.

“S-s-sorry, M-m-mat.” Rand stuttered through chattering teeth. “M-m-must have…” He panted as they stumbled towards the barn. “…b-been t-the.. rain. O-one m-more… night out… w-won’t h-hurt… I guess.”

“Not a bit of it,” Mat tried to sound as cheerful as possible, but he was riddled with worry. “He was scared the other folk would find out there was somebody sick in his inn. I told him if he kicked us out, I’d take you into the common room. That’d empty half his rooms in ten minutes. For all his talk about folks, he doesn’t want that.”

“Then w-where?”

“Here.” He pulled open the stable doors with a loud creak of hinges. He blinked, adjusted to the new lighting, glad for the darkness. He felt quite comfortable in the stable surrounded by horses.

Mat dropped their belongings in the hay and carefully laid Rand down beside them.

What he wasn’t prepared for, was for Rand to cling to him. Mat toppled over, almost falling on top of Rand, catching himself on his hands and knees, bumping his nose against Rand’s cheek.

Blushing furiously at the proximity, Mat sat up, almost in his friend’s lap. He untangled the arms from around his neck and stood. It was sad to watch Rand curl up on himself, shivering and shaking.

Mat walked toward the loft and tripped over something. He yelped, cursed, then bent down to examine the object. A lantern. He picked it up and pulled a flint from his pocket and lit the lantern. Rand recoiled from the light with a groan.

Mat eyed the ladder, then crouched down, looking over to Rand who stared quizzically back. Mat shook his head and stood.

“Never get you up there.” He hung the lantern and climbed the ladder, tossing down armfuls of hay from the loft. He climbed back down and made a bed out of the hay.

Mat pulled up the sickly Rand and let him wrap his arms around his neck again. Mat coughed, head turned away, and pulled Rand over to the bed, detangling himself before laying his friend down. He covered Rand with their cloaks.

Immediately, Rand pushed them off murmuring. “Hot.” He tugged at his collar and tossed his head. “Hot,” he insisted.

Mat held a hand to his head, remembering his mother doing that when little Eldrin was sick. “I’ll be right back.”

He quickly walked to the door, opening it enough to slip out. As soon as it closed behind him he bolted for the kitchens, coughing the whole way.

He burst into the kitchen. “Is there a Wisdom here?”

One of the cooks spoke up. “I uh… pardon?”

“A Wisdom, um… a healer for the sick?"

“Oh, Mother Brune heals our sick, but she’s out in another village helping birth a baby.”

“When will she get back?” Mat said urgently.

“We don’t know, lad.” The innkeeper chimed in and stared at Mat.

“Well, then my friend and I need food. And water,” he demanded.

“I’m not sure I can-” the cook began, but the innkeeper cut her off.

“Get him a plate of food and a pitcher of water. And quickly, two cups.” The innkeeper thrust the items into Mat’s hands, and he rearranged them to carry back to the barn. 

Mat managed to make it back to the barn without spilling anything. “There’s no Wisdom here.”

He placed the plate on the ground and filled a cup with water, passing it over as Rand held out a shaking hand. He watched as his sick friend gulped down the water.

“They don’t even know what a wisdom is. What they do have is somebody called Mother Brune, but she’s off somewhere birthing a baby, and nobody knows when she’ll be back. I did get some bread, and cheese, and sausage. Good Master Inlow will give us anything so long as we stay out of sight of his guests. Here, try some.”

Rand turned his head away as Mat held out a bit of sausage. Mat waved it about a little, but when Rand looked like he would spew he pulled it back and ate the food himself.

As the night progressed, Mat took care of Rand. He would cover him with the cloaks when he started shivering and would take them off when he pushed them away.  
He fed him water when he complained of thirst.

“Mat! Mat, they’re here! Light, they’re here!”

Mat leapt to his feet and pulled the dagger out from under his coat, brandishing it towards the darkness. “What? Darkfriends? Where?”

Rand pointed frantically into the darkness, but Mat couldn’t see anything. The fever must’ve been playing tricks on his mind.

“There’s nobody but us, Rand. Here, let me take that.” He tugged at the sword Rand held.

“No. No. I have to keep it. He’s my father. You understand? He’s m-my f-father.” Rand shivered again but held onto the sword as if for dear life. “M-my f-father!” Mat let him have it. There was no way he’d be able to pull it out of his grip. Instead he put the cloaks back over Rand.

Mat continued to take care of Rand, but found himself start to cough more and more. He stepped out quickly to get fresh air, closing the barn door behind him.

His chest and throat hurt so badly, and he fell to the ground on all fours as he coughed and coughed and coughed.

His eyes ran and he saw something red fall to the ground. He wiped his eyes, staring and hoping he wasn’t coughing blood.

Sitting on the ground in front of him was a glistening red petal. Curved in two points at one end, the strange thing had a gold streak running across it. Light, when had he been near red flowers enough to accidently swallow a petal? He lifted it into his hands, mind off his sickly friend and not coughing anymore. At least it explained why he couldn’t stop coughing.

Mat walked back inside, heeding to Rand’s whispers of “Thirsty. Water. Thirsty.”

He pulled off the blanket that Rand had started to kick off and carefully held a cup of water to Rand’s pink lips. He set everything down and cautiously sat next to Rand.

Mat looked down at his sickly face, running his eyes over every feature of it.

Rand’s eyes fluttered, but sometimes they would open and stare fearfully into the darkness. Mat was drawn in by the colour. They seemed grey, but there was a hint of blue to them. Like an overcast sky.

His pale face was even whiter than usual, almost a funny contrast to Mat’s darker skin, now.

His dark red hair was tangled around his head, darker at the roots from dried sweat.

Mat felt himself go pink as he stared down at Rand, admiring his wide jawline and strong cheekbones.

Taking care of Rand gave him this feeling that almost felt like when he took care of one of his sisters. Different, but the same. Blood and ashes, how strange is that?  
Slowly his eyes began to droop and he laid down beside Rand. In his sleepy state he sought warmth, and rested his head on Rand’s chest, relaxed by the sound of his heartbeat and the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mat's starting to realise :D  
In my headcanon, sick!Rand only wants cuddles. And Mat to take care of him.
> 
> Don't forget to check on Thursday for my special update.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5+1 things from Rand's POV. The six things are the six short wagon rides they got in the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't done a Rand POV in this series yet, so I hope you all like it.

The First Ride

Rand and Mat clambered up to the driver’s seat, Rand thanking the driver profusely. His feet ached and he was glad to have a rest.

The farmer introduced himself as Nadron, and from the start was very talkative. He laughed over the ideas of Darkfriends in the surrounding villages, grumbled over the drought plaguing the land, and shook his fists as he talked of the hooligans on the road stealing from inns and honest farms. He talked right up to the moment Mat and Rand departed, glad to be out of the wagon and back on the road, hands clasped together.

The Second Ride

They walked a fair distance before another driver offered them a ride. The man didn’t introduce himself, just asked where they were going and told them to keep quiet when he finally let them up. It didn’t take long before Rand was bored, and Mat’s head drooped on his shoulder.

Soon, Rand was yawning, too, blinking rapidly to clear the fogginess in his mind. He was so tired. Mat’s head weighed him down as he slept against his shoulder.

It wasn’t until the driver was prodding him awake that he even realised he had fallen asleep. He thanked the man and yawned loudly.

He hadn’t realised how much he liked to be with Mat when he slept. He kept walking closer to Mat, missing the cool calm that was Mat sleeping against him, the sweet scent that was his friend.

The Third Ride

The next driver to offer them a ride was a suspicious man, suspicious of them, of their bags, of every person who passed when he was stopped. Why he had even offered, Rand couldn’t guess. The wagon ride was long, and Rand was bored again, Mat’s head back on his shoulder.

Rand stared around, counting the trees as they passed and marvelling at some of the foreign buildings and clothing in the villages they went through.

He soon found himself looking down at Mat, checking in on him. His poor friend was exhausted, he probably needed the rest. Rand didn’t want to wake him, and kept his shoulder as still as possible.

Every time they bounced a particularly large rut in the road, he would pray that Mat wouldn’t wake. Even his own eyelids were drooping not long before the driver stopped to let them off. Mat came awake with a start when Rand shook him, his eyes puffy from the deep sleep he was in. Rand held him up as they walked, Mat stumbling more as he woke fully.

The Forth Ride.

The man introduced himself grandly as Olvol Namonne, and spent the rather short ride talking over Rand. Master Namonne spoke of all the things he’d seen, and his stories were more far-fetched than the gleeman’s tales Rand had believed when he was five.

Mat’s coughing was concerning the cart driver, and he kept asking what had happened to ‘the poor lad’. All of Rand’s answers were cut off and he stopped trying to answer.

Rand leaned close and whispered to Mat, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll be over soon.”

Maybe Mat was trying to act tough, but Rand could remember that almost every time Mat had been sick, back in Emonds Field, it had left him in bed for a few days. He knew his friend was dramatic, but doubted that it was all pretend. He hoped he hadn’t gotten what Rand had.

Master Namonne let them off with a grand flourish and drove off with equal grandiour. His stories had been amusing at least.

The Fifth Ride

Pom Lamor wasn’t a very memorable man, but the ride he gave them was. The cart was rickety and Mat’s head dropped onto Rand’s shoulder quite fast.

It surprised Rand, how much he had missed that. The slow breathing he could hear and feel as Mat slumbered against him, the way his head bobbed in time with the cart, his dark hair spilling across the fabric of his shirt, the small expressions he made as he slept.  
Rand didn’t realise he was staring until Master Lamor made a comment that had Rand protesting and blushing profusely, his whole face red. There was no way he thought that way about Mat.

And, The Last Ride

Rand didn’t remember the driver’s name. In fact, he barely talked to them, and Rand was fine with that as he went over what Master Lamor had suggested.

His head felt like it was exploding. Of course he cared for Mat. Mat was his best friend, who didn’t judge him over his height and pale complexion, who he had competed with for years. They were friends. Weren’t they?

He and Perrin were friends. And he cared for Perrin, but in a different way. It felt different with Mat. Maybe he didn’t just think of Mat as a friend?

He had liked Egwene, hadn’t he? He had been promised to her for as long as he could remember, and he thought he liked her in that way. But it didn’t feel the same with Mat. Different, but the same. Blood and ashes, how strange was that?

Did he even like Egwene like that? Did he love Egwene anymore?

Maybe he loved Mat?

No.

Yes.

Maybe.

Possibly.

At least Rand didn’t have anymore time to think, when the driver let them down, the crisp dusk air setting in.

Mat held out his hand for Rand, who took it without thinking. He felt the contact vividly.

Maybe he thought of Mat as more than a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to leave it a little more open than an obvious realisation. I hope you all enjoyed :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written lots of chapters in advance and I'm really excited to share them with you all! It's getting gayer.  
Also, if anyone knows how to use italics, please tell me, cause there's supposed to be some italics in here but it won't let me.

In the middle of the night Mat awoke, Rand’s shouts stirring him. He pulled his arms out from around Rand’s middle and sleepily lifted his head.

“You have to tell me!” Rand was talking, but Mat wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not. He looked over at Rand as he spoke again. “Who am I? Tell me, please. Who am I? _Who am I?_” By the end he was shouting.__

_ __ _

“Easy, Rand.” Mat said as soothingly as possible. He quickly poured a cup of water and held it to his friend’s chapped lips.

_ __ _

“Just rest easy. You’re Rand Al’Thor, that’s who you are, with the ugliest face and the thickest head in the Two Rivers.” He chuckled. “Hey, you’re sweating! The fever’s broken.”

_ __ _

“Rand Al’Thor?” Rand asked. Mat nodded, trying his best to not pull a disheartened face at the childish voice and lapse of memory. Rand closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, not even touching the water. Mat drank it instead. 

_ __ _

He continued checking up on Rand, watching, adjusting the blankets as he rolled around and sweated. Every time Mat laid a hand on his forehead, or pulled at a blanket, Rand would open his eyes and stare at Mat, almost as if he was Rand's whole world.

_ __ _

Maybe Mat had caught Rand’s sickness, because he started getting a terrible squirming feeling in his stomach and an odd throbbing in his chest. In between checking on Rand, he would rest his back against the wall and close his eyes, waiting until Rand shifted again.

_ __ _

Mat drifted off and only awoke when he heard Rand shouting, feeling himself fall as he woke with an embarrassing snort. He rubbed at his eyes and stared at the woman standing near them.

_ __ _

“I just came to look at my horse.” She gestured toward the line of stalls. “Are you ill?”

_ __ _

“He’s alright,” Mat said stiffly, “he just caught a chill in the rain, that’s all.”

_ __ _

“Perhaps I should look at him,” she said. “I have some knowledge…”

_ __ _

Rand stared up at her suspiciously. “I’m fine, now,” he told her. “Really, there’s no need.”

_ __ _

Mat watched her every move, not wanting her near Rand, but letting her as she seemed to know what she was doing. She knelt beside him and Mat almost felt like growling at her. He really must be getting sick.

_ __ _

“No fever,” she said analytically. “You _were_ sick, though. Yes. Yes. And still weak as a day-old kitten. I think…”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Suddenly things were moving too fast.

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Her hand flashed beneath her coat.

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

She thrust a dagger at Mat and he leapt aside, pulling out his own ruby-hilted dagger and swinging it as close to her as he could. Her dagger hit the wall and lodged in it. He held his dagger close to her neck.

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Mat! Mat, her dagger!”

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

He spotted her dagger, eyes widening as he saw the wall smoking around the blade. He pried her hand off the hilt, easily pushing her to the ground. He had seen the way she eyed his dagger.

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Don’t move. I’ll use this if you move,” he gestured with the dagger and she flinched. “Believe me, I will.” She nodded slowly. “Watch her, Rand.”

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Mat turned to the wall and yanked at the smoking dagger. It came free and he looked about as to where to put it. He gestured the ruby dagger at her and handed Rand the smoking one.

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

His own hand tightened on his dagger, and he slowly brought it up above his head.

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Mat, no!”

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Mat stopped and looked over at Rand. “She tried to kill me, Rand. She’d have killed you, too. She’s a Darkfriend!”

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“But we’re not.” The woman gasped, as if only just realising Mat had been about to kill her. “We are not, Mat.”

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

He was frozen, torn between fulfilling his threat and wanting to obey Rand’s wishes. Finally he nodded, and gestured with his dagger. “Move over there,” he told her.

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

She moved slowly, standing and taking her time brushing hay off her dress. As if she had not a care in the world, she walked slowly over towards the tack room.

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“You really should stop struggling,” she said. “It would be for the best.”

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“The best?” Mat sighed.

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“A mistake. There has been considerable... confusion since what happened with that egotistical fool Gode. Not to mention whoever the idiot was who started the panic in Market Sheran. No one is sure what happened there, or how. That makes it more dangerous for you, don’t you see? You will have honoured places if you come to the Great Lord of your own free will, but as long as you run, there will be pursuit, and who can tell what will happen then?”

_ __ _

_ __ _

_ __ _

Mat gulped. _You may think it safe to stay with your friend, but one day he will lead me to you._

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Mat quickly recovered, whispering to himself: _“I belong to no one.”___

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

To her, he said, “So you’re having trouble with a couple of farmboys.” He laughed maliciously. “Maybe you Darkfriends aren’t as dangerous as I’ve always heard.” He flung open the door of the tack room and stepped back.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

She walked through, pausing just outside the door. Her gaze and voice were icy. “You will find out how dangerous we are. When the Myrddraal gets here-”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

Mat slammed the door and pulled down the bar onto the brackets.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

He turned back to Rand, eyes full of worry. “Fade. Coming here, she says.” He tucked the ruby dagger back under his coat. “How are your legs?”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

“I can’t dance.” Mat chuckled quietly as Rand went on, “but if you’ll help me get to my feet, I can walk.” He looked at the blade still in his hand and visibly shuddered. “Blood and ashes, I’ll run.”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

Mat quickly slung all their possessions over himself and pulled Rand to his feet once again. Rand held onto his arm to stay upright, and Mat found himself almost missing the feverish Rand who had clung to him.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

Rand held the dagger as far from himself as possible. As they passed the door Rand saw a bucket of water, and chucked the blade into it. It hissed and steam rose from the bucket.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

They continued on past the inn, and Mat was almost sad to leave the barn. Maybe he realised something in there. Whatever it was, he didn’t know.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many daggers flying around. Well okay, it was only two, but differentiating them was a pain in the butt. And of course, Oblivious!Mat as usual.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to upload on Monday mornings (7amish AEST) instead of afternoons because it's more convenient for me.  
I'm also doing an extra upload on Thursday morning because it's a very short chapter.  
I hope you enjoy the chapter!

They felt like a miserable pair. Mat couldn’t even see with full clarity, and Rand hung off him, still weak from his sickness. Plenty of other people were walking down the road with them, not paying much mind to them unless Rand stumbled.

Suddenly Mat felt himself on the ground. Rand had collapsed, his strength giving out, pulling Mat down with him. He stood back up and retrieved all of their belongings that had gone sprawling across the floor. 

“We have to keep going,” Mat insisted, running a hand through his hair and pulling the scarf down over his eyes. “Sooner or later, someone will let her out, and they’ll be after us again.”

“I know,” Rand panted. He lifted his arms. “I know. Give me a hand.”

Mat pulled him to his feet and held him steady as Rand stood, legs shaking and forehead beading with sweat. There was no way he’d be able to walk.

It didn’t take long for a wagon to pull up beside them, thankfully, and a leathery face man stepped out from the driver’s seat. “Something wrong with him?” the man queried, speaking around the pipe clenched between his teeth.

“He’s just tired,” Mat said quickly.

Rand let go of his arm and stood without help, legs shaking under him, apparently trying to prove something. “I haven’t slept in two days,” he said. Mat was glad Rand had a far better lie. “Ate something that made me sick. I’m better, now, but I haven’t slept.”

The driver sent them both a sympathetic look and blew a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Going to Caemlyn, are you? Was your age, I expect I might be going off to see this false Dragon myself.”

Mat nodded eagerly, vaguely remembering the innkeeper with the barn who has mentioned _‘fools going to see the false Dragon’_.__

_ __ _

“Yes. That’s right. We’re going to see the false Dragon.”

_ __ _

“Well, climb on up, then. Your friend in the back. If he’s sick again, best it’s on the straw, not up here. Name’s Hyan Kinch.”

_ __ _

“I’m Mat.” He slung Rand’s arm over his shoulders and half carried him to the back of the wagon. Rand slumped over the back and weakly pulled himself up, collapsing in the back. He sent his weak friend a worried look as he climbed up into the driver’s seat with Master Kinch.

_ __ _

Master Kinch was a quiet man, who Mat didn’t bother trying to talk to. Rand was in the back, weak and tired, unable to defend himself, while Mat sat in comfort in the front. He felt terrible.

_ __ _

Mat turned in his seat and stared at Rand, partially watching out the back of the wagon for any danger. Rand was curled up again and seemed to be asleep. Mat pulled the scarf back over his eyes and stared at the passing countryside.

_ __ _

“Sure you didn’t catch whatever it is your friend had?” Master Kinch asked, later on in the day. “That’s a harsh cough.”

_ __ _

Mat coughed again, turning to check on Rand, who was still sleeping like a baby. “Yeah, it’s just from the rain. It’ll go away soon enough.”

_ __ _

He coughed into a clenched fist and examined his palm. He’d already coughed up two petals this ride, and thrown them out onto the road beneath the cart. Mat had considered asking Master Kinch about it, but figured he just needed to cough them all up.

_ __ _

Three petals later, he heard Rand stir, and quickly turned around in his seat. He squinted in the low light, leaning back and searching for Rand’s grey eyes. “You see anything back there?” he whispered. “What about wagons?”

_ __ _

Rand shook his head and Mat sighed in relief. Master Kinch turned his head slightly, and flapped the reigns. Mat decided to keep a firm eye on him.

_ __ _

“You’re eyes still hurt?” Rand asked.

_ __ _

He coughed again, throat feeling raw from coughing so much. “No. Not much. Not unless I look right at the sun anyway.” His tone softened. “What about you? Are you feeling any better?”

_ __ _

“Some.”

_ __ _

Mat’s attention was quickly caught as a body of horsemen rode past. The horses looked to be well strong and well cared for, and their riders were clad in chainmail over long white and red clothes.

_ __ _

Once they had passed, Mat turned to Master Kinch. “Who were they?”

_ __ _

“Queen’s guards.” The pipe clenched between his teeth muffled some of his words. “Won’t go much further than Breen’s Spring, ‘less they’re called for. Not like the old days. I suppose, these days, there’s parts of the Realm don’t see the Guards in a year or more. Not like the old days.”

_ __ _

“What are they doing?” Rand asked.

_ __ _

The farmer shot him a quizzical look. “Keeping the Queen’s peace and upholding the Queen’s law.” He nodded to himself and Mat resisted the urge to scoff at him. “Searching out malefactors and seeing them before a magistrate. Mmmph!” He puffed out a long stream of smoke. “You two must be from pretty far off not to recognise the Queen’s Guard. Where are you from?”

_ __ _

“Far off,” Mat said, sending a glare to Rand when he answered at the same time, “The Two Rivers.” Apologetic eyes returned his look.

_ __ _

Master Kinch paused, puffing on his pipe. “That’s far off, all right. Almost to the border of the Realm. But things must be worse than I thought if there’s places in the Realm where people don’t even _recognise_ the Queen’s Guards. Not like the old days at all.”__

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Mat wondered if the Two Rivers folk would even consider themselves as part of the Realm. He’d certainly never seen a Queen’s Guard before.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Master Kinch pulled on the reigns. “Far as I go. Two days will see you in Caemlyn. Least, it would if you’re friend had his legs under him.”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Mat hopped down and quickly picked up their belongings. He assisted Rand down from the back of the wagon, bracing him under his armpits with Rand’s arms looped around his shoulders again. He grimaced as he remembered Rand pulling him to the floor in the barn, arms around his neck.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Rand untangled himself and took a few steps on his own. Mat held out a hand for Rand and was disappointed when he shrugged off the contact.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

“You can rest up a day or two at my place, if you want. Won’t miss anything in that time I suppose. Whatever sickness you’re getting over young fellow… well, the old woman and me, we already had about every sickness you can think of before you were born, and nursed our younglings through ‘em, too. I’d expect you’re past the catching stage, but your friend might not be.”

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Mat glared suspiciously, but some words stuck with him. _We already had about every sickness you can think of_. Maybe they would understand the strange petals? He assumed that he had swallowed some, but maybe he was sick? No, it was foolish, there was no way he had some strange flower sickness.__

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

“… how far to the next village?” he heard Rand say.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

“Craysford? You can reach it before dark, walking.” He took out the pipe and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “First off, I reckoned you for runaway ‘prentices, but now I expect it’s something more serious you’re running from. Don’t know what. Don’t care. I’m a good enough judge to say you’re not Darkfriends, and not likely to rob or hurt anybody. Not like some on the road these days. I got in trouble a time or two myself when I was your age. You need a place to keep out of sight a few days, my farm is five miles that way-” he jerked his head towards the cart track“-and don’t nobody ever come out there. Whatever’s chasing you, won’t likely find you there.”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

“How would you know what Darkfriends look like?” Mat demanded, reaching under his coat and backing away from the cart. He wouldn’t let this man hurt them. “What do you know about Darkfriends?”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

“Suit yourselves.” Master Kinch flicked his reigns and led the cart down the pathway.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

Mat realised he’d given up a place to stay, a place that hadn’t needed payment, and Rand desperately needed to stop and recuperate his strength. He turned to Rand guiltily. “Sorry, Rand. You need a place to rest. Maybe if we go after him…” He angrily kicked a rock and it skittered across the worn-down dirt road.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

“… I just can’t get over the feeling that everyone is after us. Light, I wish I knew why they were. I wish it was over. I wish…”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

He wished they could stop travelling, he wished they would stop having to sleep in the back of wagons and scruffy back rooms of numerous inns. He wished they didn’t have to perform just to earn enough to eat each day. He wished they could stop walking, stop being chased, stop being constantly paranoid. He wished he could stop looking over his shoulder for a Fade following them. He almost wished he could be back in Emond’s Field. Almost. He just wished he could stay by Rand, and have them both safe and happy.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

“There are still some good people.” Rand touched his arm. Mat pulled away, starting for the cart track, but Rand pulled him back around, holding his arms. “We can’t afford to stop and to just rest, Mat. Besides, I don’t think there is anywhere to hide.”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

Mat nodded, and tried to pull some of the belongings off of Rand’s shoulders. He shouldn’t have to carry them, he was still weak. Rand shook his head and secured them over his shoulders.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

Mat held out his hand and Rand took it, as they started to walk for Crayford. Rand wasn’t really weak enough to need the support, and Mat could see well enough to not stumble over every rock on the road. Neither of them wanted to let go.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit more petals, little bit more hand-holding. Mat's clearly going more and more off the deep end, and I've already written up to the part where Moiraine reconnects with the boys. I'm very excited about these series.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this fic has been the only thing stopping me going crazy, exams are hell.  
This chapter is really short but its got some cuteness, so it's worth reading.

The town of Crayford was a fairly small one, almost as small as Emond’s Field. It was strange to think of his home as small. Mat was suspicious of the peaceful atmosphere of this town.

Just three days ago, Gode attacked them in the peaceful town of Four Kings.

Two days ago, Paitr attacked them in that peaceful village, Market Sheran.

Yesterday, the nameless Darkfriend woman attacked them. In a peaceful barn behind a peaceful inn in a peaceful town.

Nowhere seemed to be safe.

They reached Crayford well after dark, unlike what Master Kinch had told them. The boys slinked through town, not trusting any of the villagers around them.

He was sick of walking. His feet hurt.

He dropped Rand’s hand and crouched down, pushing the scarf on top of his head and recounting measurements, “Two paces to a span. A thousand spans to a mile, four miles to the league… I’m not walking another ten paces unless there’s a place to sleep at the end of it.”

They needed to rest.

“Something to eat wouldn’t be amiss, either.”

When was the last time he’d eaten?

“You haven’t been hiding anything in your pockets have you?”

Rand might be selfish like that, he could do that. Even Ba’alzamon had said so.

“An apple, maybe? I won’t hold it against you if you have.”

He stood and stepped right in front of Rand, glaring as he stared into his eyes. Cold grey eyes, not even seeing him.

“You could at least look.”

Rand looked about, ignoring his comments. Mat huffed and sat down, pulling off a boot to massage his foot.

He felt Rand nudge him with the toe of his boot. “We’ll sleep there.”

“Haystacks.” He missed sleeping in a bed. “Again.” Regardless, he tugged on his boots and followed Rand.

Mat ignored the outstretched hand offered to him. They didn’t need any assistance from each other. They were getting enough strange looks during the day.

They climbed over fences and Mat felt bad for lashing out at Rand. He was just hungry, and cold.

Mat burrowed into a haystack, leaving enough room for Rand beside him. Rand stashed their belongings in the hay as Mat cleared a space for him. He climbed in beside Mat and they shifted around until Mat had his head resting on Rand’s chest again. He was too tired to care what Rand might think of it.

A gentle hand stroked Mat’s hair.

“Rand?” Mat said softly, “Rand, do you think we’ll make it?”

“Tar Valon? It’s a long way yet, but-”

“Caemlyn. Do you think we’ll make it to Caemlyn?” Just yesterday he would’ve believed it himself. But now the empty pit in his stomach and the way his whole body ached, fear constantly coursing through him, made him think otherwise.

Rand ducked his head down closer to Mat’s. “Master Kinch said two days. Day after tomorrow, the next day, we’ll get there.”

He curled up around Rand. “If there aren’t a hundred Darkfriends waiting for us down the road, or a Fade or two.”

He whispered, now. “I think we’re the last ones left, Rand.” He was so scared. The others were probably dead. “Whatever it’s all about, it’s just us two, now. Just us.”

Rand resumed stoking Mat’s hair. “Go to sleep, Mat.” He heard the taller boy yawn and closed his own eyes, lulled by Rand’s hand in his hair, the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mat is really going downhill, with Rand and the dagger. If there's anything you guys think I should add, please leave a comment and I'll see if I can do it :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's a little late. I hadn't gotten the beta's version back in time.

Mat and Rand woke to the crowing of a rooster. Rand climbed out of their haystack, leaving Mat to topple into the empty space. The smaller boy spat straw out of his mouth and yawned. He noticed Rand and accidently left his mouth open, mid-yawn.

The taller boy had untucked his shirt, shaking out hay from the clothing. Well-defined muscles peeked out from underneath the fabric. Mat had seen Rand shirtless many times before, of course, they had swum with Perrin in the White River, but he found himself staring, cheeks dusted pink.

Mat closed his mouth as Rand looked down from buttoning back up his coat, not wanting to be caught staring. Wordlessly, Rand held out a hand to pull Mat from the haystack, which he accepted, shaking straw out from his own clothes.

He wrapped the scarf around his head and spoke quickly. “You think we might get something to eat today?”

“We can think about that when we’re on the road,” Rand replied. He dug the last of their belongings out from the haystack and took Mat’s hand, leading him towards the fence line.

A long procession of people filled the Caemlyn road. It was strange to see so many people walking in one place. Most people were young men like themselves, but he could see a few women and older men amongst the crowd.

“Where are you bound?” Mat called to a stranger passing them.

“Why, Caemlyn, for to see the Dragon,” the man spared a glance at their bags and bedrolls. “Just like you.” He laughed and walked on, looking out towards the horizon.

He asked the question to multiple people throughout the day, and most gave a similar answer, except those who were clearly local folk. Most local folk didn’t even answer him, just spitting and turning away with disgust plain across their faces.

Carts rolled past in the day, ignoring all calls for a ride, sometimes refusing with insults and rude gestures. A merchant train rolled by in the day, and Mat pulled Rand to the side of the road. The driver’s didn’t seem as if they would be stopping for anyone or anything. He didn’t trust any of these people, why didn’t they care for others?

Abruptly, he felt Rand’s hand jerk out of his, and the crack of a whip ringed through the air. Rand had narrowly missed being smacked by the whip of the first cart driver, barely ducking out of the way in time.

Mat shook his fist, unable to believe that someone would attack Rand like that. “Light blind you! You can’t-” The butt of a spear crunched against his shoulder, and he fell, sprawling on top of Rand. He coughed wetly into his hands and wiped his mouth.

Rand’s shocked grey eyes looked him up and down, and he stared back with anger twisting his face. He turned, not noticing how he sat nearly in Rand’s lap.

“Out of the way, you dirty Darkfriend.” The mounted guard growled, moving back into line with the rest of his crew.

Mat became acutely aware of how he was situated. Rand was still shocked, eyeing Mat up and down.

Mat stared at the colour in Rand’s cheeks, how the red covered his whole pale face.

His right hand was on the ground by Rand’s side, his left hanging awkwardly in front of his face as he coughed weakly. Rand’s hands were both behind him, and his chest heaved.

The redhead’s face faded to a tinged pink, a beautiful flush across his cheeks and nose. Mat leaned closer, dropping his arm, mentally tracing the lines and freckles that dotted his pale skin.

“Pillow-friends!” The random jeer pulled them both out of the stupor and Mat scrambled off Rand. His whole face felt hot as he doubled over coughing. He smoothed out his clothes and tried to fix his ruffled hair.

He picked back up the bags that had fallen off him and turned back to Rand, who was so red he almost seemed to be going purple. He gulped and beckoned Mat with his head, not offering his hand.

Throughout the day, more drivers flicked whips at them, and learnt to duck out of the way quickly. Once, Rand misjudged the distance and a shallow gash spilled blood above his eyebrow. He clapped a hand against it and gagged.

Mat pulled out the bow, coughed, and reached for an arrow, glaring down the wagon driver who smirked at Rand’s pain. He would have let loose that arrow, if Rand hadn’t rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Let it go.” Rand jerked his head at the guards standing around, laughing and eyeing his bow. “If we’re lucky, they’d just beat us with their spears. If we’re lucky.”

Mat relented, putting away the bow and holding out his hand for Rand. He was surprised that Rand took it, but the other boy refused to look at him.

Squadrons of queen’s guards passed them twice, and were hailed by farmers to talk.

One time Rand pulled him over to the side and Mat could hear their conversation.

“If one of the steals something, or trespasses on your land,” the guard growled to the lanky farmer frowning beside his stirrup, “I’ll haul him before a magistrate, but they break no Queen’s Law by walking on the Queen’s Highway.”

“But they’re all over the place,” the farmer protested. “Who knows who they are, or what they are. All this talk about the Dragon…”

“Light man! You only have a handful here. Caemlyn’s walls are bulging with them, and more coming every day.” The officer noticed the two boys and scowled at them. “Get on with you, or I’ll have you in for blocking traffic.” Rand pulled him onwards, worry creasing his brow.

They walked the whole day, even through dusk. By dark, everyone had abandoned the road, those with money at an inn and others in bushes along the roadside.

“There’s another farm with haystacks there,” Mat sighed and pointed. “Can’t we stop yet?”

“We have to keep on,” Rand insisted, “As long as we can see the road. The further we go before stopping, the further ahead we are.”

Mat glanced over his shoulder, almost expecting a Fade to jump out of the shadows. He kept on walking, dragging slightly behind Rand’s quick pace.

His jumpiness didn’t last long, and finally he stopped, pulling on Rand’s sleeve and whining.

“Can we stop now?” He sank onto his knees and looked up at Rand with pleading eyes. Rand took a step back. “Or do you want to find an inn and hang out a sign for Darkfriends? Or a Fade?”

Rand turned away and said softly, “The other side of the town. Another mile that’s all.”

Mat childishly sat, crossing his arms and legs. “All! I’m not walking another span!”

He watched with exasperation as Rand turned and walked, sluggishly forward. Mat grumbled and dragged himself after his friend.

The town was mostly abandoned, a few stragglers hanging outside the inn. Two stragglers, actually, standing in the edge of the light, and a man checking horses at the near end of the inn. Rand pulled them into the shadows of a house and Mat slumped against the wall, sighing. He almost felt he could sleep right here, standing like a horse. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on Rand’s shoulder, swaying as he tried not to fall.

Mat was almost asleep when he heard Rand whisper, “Fade.”

He sprung up, loudly exclaiming, “What-!” Rand’s hand clamped over his mouth.

“Softly.” Rand paused and Mat glared at him, feeling his face heat. “It’s gone, now. I think. I hope.” Rand removed his hand and Mat coughed, as quietly as he could.

“Strange friends you’ve got, Raimun Holdwin.” Mat looked over as the cart driver spoke again, “Strange friends in the dark for an innkeeper.”

Another man, presumably the innkeeper, stood by the door. Mat hadn’t noticed the other two leave. “And what do you mean by that, Almen Bunt?”

“Just what I said, Holdwin. Strange friends. He’s not from around here, is he? Lot of odd folk coming through the last few weeks. Awful lot of odd folk.”

“You’re a fine one to talk. I know a lot of men, even men from Caemlyn. Not in the way you do, mind, sneaking them out to that farm of yours.” The man paused, clearly impressed with his jeer. “He’s from Four Kings-“ Mat gasped softly “-looking for a couple of thieves. Young men. They stole a heron-mark sword from him.”

Mat stared out into the darkness, watching for movement. That man had been a Darkfriend and had surely called in for the Fades to chase them down.

“A heron-mark sword! No wonder he wanted it back.”

The innkeeper nodded. “Yes, and them, too. My friend’s a rich man, a… a merchant, and they’ve been stirring up trouble with the men who work for him. They’re Darkfriends, and followers of Logain, too.”

Mat despised being called a Darkfriend, but surely this man was in cahoots with them. He didn’t believe his ‘friend’ was a merchant at all.

“Darkfriends _and_ followers of the false Dragon? And telling wild stories, too? Getting up to a lot for young fellows. You did say they were young?”__

_ __ _

“Yes. Not yet twenty. There’s a reward – a hundred crowns in gold – for the two of them.” Holdwin paused again, hesitating. “They’ve sly tongues, these two. The Light knows what kind of tales they’ll tell, trying to turn people against one another. And dangerous, too, even if they don’t look it. Vicious. Best you stay clear if you think you see them. Two young men, one with a sword, always looking over their shoulders.” He chuckled and added, “Holding hands, like light burned pillow-friends. If they’re the right ones, my… my friend will pick them up once they’re located.”

_ __ _

“You sound almost as if you know them to look at.”

_ __ _

“I’ll know them when I see them,” The innkeeper said confidently. “Just don’t try to take them yourself. No need for anyone to get hurt. Come tell me if you see them. My… my friend will deal with them. A hundred crowns for the two, but he wants the pair.”

_ __ _

“A hundred crowns for the two. How much for this sword he wants so bad?” Bunt chuckled and the innkeeper realised he was making a joke of him.

_ __ _

“I don’t know why I’m telling you,” Holdwin snapped. “You’re still fixed on that fool plan of yours, I see.”

_ __ _

“Not such a fool plan. There might not be another false Dragon to see before I die – Light send it so – and I’m too old to eat merchant’s dust all the way to Caemlyn. I’ll have the road to myself, and I’ll be in Caemlyn bright and early tomorrow.”

_ __ _

“To yourself?” the innkeeper sneered at him. “You can never tell what might be out in the night, Almen Bunt. All alone on the road, in the dark. Even if somebody hears you scream, there’s no one will unbar a door to help. Not these days, Bunt. Not your nearest neighbour.”

_ __ _

The cart driver didn’t care. “If the Queen’s guards can’t keep the road safe this close to Caemlyn, then we’re none of us safe even in our own beds. If you ask me, one thing the Guards could do to make sure the roads are safe would be clap that friend of yours in irons. Sneaking around in the dark, afraid to let anybody get a look at him. Can’t tell me he’s not up to no good.”

_ __ _

“Afraid!” Holdwin exclaimed. “You old fool, if you knew-” He clamped his jaw shut suddenly, teeth clicking in the night. “I don’t know why I’m wasting time on you. Get off with you! Stop cluttering up the front of my place of business.” He slammed the door shut behind himself.

_ __ _

Rand stepped forward. Mat was shocked, the crazy innkeeper had just given a description of them. Why was he going over there? Mat grabbed his hand, pulling him back.

_ __ _

“Are you crazy, Rand? He’ll recognise us for sure!”

_ __ _

“You’d rather stay here? With a Fade around? How far do you think we’ll get on foot before it finds us?” He shook Mat off and walked over to the man. Mat grumbled and followed, keeping his head straight and his hand away from Rand’s.

_ __ _

Mat stopped close by in the shadows as Rand approached the man, cloak closed shut over his sword. Surely that was suspicious! Even in the cold!

_ __ _

“I couldn’t help but overhear you’re going to Caemlyn.”

_ __ _

Bunt jerked around, pulling a quarterstaff from his cart and pointing it at them. Mat had to appreciate his weapon choice, having his own proficiency with a quarterstaff. The man glared at them and slowly lowered the end to lean on it. “So you two are going to Caemlyn. To see the Dragon, eh?”

_ __ _

“The _false_ Dragon,” Rand corrected. Mat rolled his eyes, there was no way that wasn’t suspicious.__

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Bunt nodded. “Of course, of course.” He jerked his head at the seat, stashing his quarterstaff back in the wagon. “Well, if you want a ride, get in. I’ve already wasted enough time.” He was already climbing up.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Rand climbed into the back as Bunt flicked the reigns, and Mat had to run after him, jumping and catching Rand’s hands to be pulled in. His luck, of course, tumbled him on top of Rand, and he climbed off with a quick apology, not noticing Rand’s disappointed glance.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man that was fun. This chapter was soo time consuming copying out the conversation between Bunt and the innkeeper, but I made up for it with the 'pillow-friend' section. In the Wheel of Time universe, pillow-friend refers to a same-sex relationship specifically within the White Tower, but I'm ignoring that because it works for my fic.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I missed last week's update. Life was getting hectic and I didn't have things ready. I promise I'm not abandoning this fic! To make up for it, I'll be posting 3 times this week. Next chapter Wed/Thurs and the third upload Fri/Sat.
> 
> This chapter is quite sweet. Short and sweet.

Mat lost sight of the village quickly, leaning against the side of the wagon. Rand sat on the other side. It hurt Mat to not be able to sit close to Rand in fear of them being identified as the miscreants. It was so dark he couldn’t even see Rand’s face and the wind whipped at his cloak and nipped at his ears. Rand was warm.

Mat stared off the side, yawning and coughing into his fist. Already he’d coughed up a petal, and he was pretty sure there was another one coming up. Where in the light were these petals come from? What was causing them? He coughed and sure enough a petal landed in his hand. He threw it over the side and stiffened.

He had been throwing them over the edge.

What if Darkfriends had been following his trail? What if they knew he had this strange sickness, at least that’s what he was sure it was. Some weird sickness. He would have to start keeping them in his pockets, at least until he could dispose of them in Caemlyn.

“You two ever been to Caemlyn?” Mat jumped as Bunt spoke. The strange man gave a chuckle, his voice barely carrying over the rushing wind. “Don’t suppose you have. Well, wait till you see it. The greatest city in the world. Oh, I’ve heard all about Illian and Ebou Dar and Tear and all – there’s always some fool thinks a thing is bigger and better just because it’s off somewhere over the horizon – but for my money, Caemlyn is the grandest there is. Couldn’t be grander. No, it couldn’t. Unless maybe Queen Morgase, the Light illuminate her, got rid of that witch from Tar Valon.”

Rand twisted around to look at Bunt. “You mean an Aes Sedai?”

“What else would I mean? Sitting there in the palace like a spider.”

Mat rolled his eyes. Sure, he was no fan of Aes Sedai, but he doubted that speaking ill of one was going to do you any good.

Bunt continued, “I’m a good Queen’s man – never say I’m not – but it just isn’t right. I’m not one of those saying Elaida’s got too much influence over the Queen. Not me. And as for the fools who claim Elaida’s really the queen in all but name…” he spat over the side and Mat made a face. “That for them. Morgase is no puppet to dance for any Tar Valon witch.”

There was no way they could trust this Elaida. There was no certainty that she even knew Moiraine, let alone actually help them. He looked down at Rand, who had settled on his back with his pack under his head, smiling with hope. Mat shook his head, there was no way they’d ever be sure that trusting Elaida was a good thing.

Bunt went on talking and Mat mostly ignored him, coughing again. He felt another petal slip from his lips and he quickly tucked it into his pocket. One.

He jumped as he felt Rand tap his back, and turned to see Rand quietly pat the wagon floor beside him. Mat obliged, too tired to care if Bunt recognised them as the evil young men. He laid down and rested his head on Rand’s blanketroll, cuddling in close to Rand. For warmth of course.

The drone of Bunt’s voice kept him awake, and he sat back up, allowing a sleepy Rand to curl around his middle. He stared out at the passing countryside, listening to Bunt’s monotonal speech as the cart traversed the land.

By morning, Mat hadn’t slept, and had coughed up more petals. He had six in his pocket. He had taken to staring at them. They weren’t all the same, but they were all red with gold stripes. He had tried putting them into a flower, but none of them seemed to fit.

A shriek shattered Mat out of his musings, as Rand sprang awake, rubbing at his hands and eyes.

“At least…” Mat yawned, his jaw cracking, “At least you got some sleep. He talked all night.”

“You all the way awake?” Bunt called from the driver’s seat. “Gave me a start, you did, yelling like that. Well we’re there.” He swept his hand in front of him in a grand gesture. “Caemlyn, the grandest city in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh the petals. Mat still has no idea what's causing it. But maybe he's starting to realise how he feels about Rand. Maybe.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of using my quarantine time effectively I've just started binge-reading fanfics. Clap Clap for me.
> 
> Yeah I'm skipping Caemlyn description because I find that stuff boring and that’s Robert Jordan’s thing. I prefer writing dialogue, no hate on people who write in other styles. So if you want the description it’s the first thing in chapter 35 “caemlyn”.

Mat stared at the city in wonder.

“What did I tell you?” Bunt yelled, voice raised over the noise of people entering the city. “The greatest city in the world. Built by Ogier, you know. Least, the Inner City and the Palace were. It’s that old, Caemlyn is. Caemlyn, where good Queen Morgase, the Light illuminate her, makes the law and holds the peace for Andor. The greatest city on earth.”

Mat didn’t like the noise of the city. He curled in on himself, shaking as he coughed, shoulders hunched and hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound with little success. The city was huge.

He noticed Rand staring at him. “How are we going to hide in this?” Mat shouted. “How can we tell who to trust with so many? So bloody many.” He coughed. “Light, the noise!”

Rand looked away from him wordlessly, awe painted across his pale face. He looked around again, then leaned over to Mat, gently pulling one hand away from his head. His lips grazed Mat’s ear, and the smaller boy turned pink, spare hand covering his mouth as he hacked up another petal. He slipped it into his pocket. Seven.

“How can they find us among so many.” Even this close Rand had to speak loudly. “Can’t you see it, you wool-headed idiot? We’re safe, if you ever learn to watch your bloody tongue.”

Mat looked up as his friend gestured grandly, arm flung out to encompass the city before them. “Look at it, Mat! Anything could happen here. Anything! We might even find Moiraine waiting for us, and Egwene, and all the rest.”

He turned to Rand, face uncomfortably close, pulling the other hand away to lean on it. ”If they’re alive. If you ask me, they’re as dead as the gleeman.”

The smile faded from Rand’s face, and while Mat was sad to see it go, he was glad Rand was considering the truth. He coughed towards the side, not noticing the few people he scared nearby. 

Mat turned around, covering his ears up and sitting cross-legged. He stared at the city ahead of him, wonder mixing with dread in his stomach. Rand leaned a hand on Mat’s shoulder as he rose onto his knees to see around them.

Mat was staring around the city as they entered, noting the brown grass and dead trees littering the main square, seeing how the throng of people ignored the obvious decay around them. The whole land was suffering from the endless winter. The cart rumbled down a side road, and he felt Rand sit, pressing against him in surprise.

Bunt pulled the cart to the side of the road, and Mat was glad to hear the city was slightly quieter here, the mass of people less dense than the main road. He let Rand help him down from the wagon and took the saddlebags proffered.

“What you’re hiding under that cloak,” Bunt said stiffly, turning in his seat to look at them, “is it really what Holdwin says?”

Rand barely paused, answering quickly, “What do you mean?”

Mat reached under his coat for his dagger, other hand rising to stifle a cough. This man could mean them harm, and it would be best to get him out of the way before he turned Rand, or either of them, in to Queen’s guards or Whitecloaks. He glared at the cart driver.

“Don’t mean nothing, I suppose. Look, now, if you heard I was coming to Caemlyn, you were there long enough to hear the rest. Was I after a reward, I’d have made some excuse to go in the Goose and Crown, speak to Holdwin. Only I don’t much like Holdwin, and I don’t like that friend of his, not at all. Seems like he wants you two more than he wants… anything else.”

“I don’t know what he wants,” Rand said. “We’ve never seen him before.” Mat wondered how many Fades were chasing them.

“Uh-huh. Well, like I say, I don’t know nothing, and I guess I don’t want to. There’s enough trouble around for everybody without I go looking for more.” The driver waved them off and turned back to flick the reigns and slowly ride onwards through the city.

Mat didn’t see Rand walk off, hand still gripping the dagger as he watched the man. Rand took the hand hanging by his side, tugging Mat back along the street. He nearly pulled away, but reconsidered, coughing too much to protest. Surely their description hadn’t entered the city yet. They had a little bit more time of this hand holding. Mat needed the comfort right then, anyway.

Rand stopped at the end of the street, and Mat looked up to his conflicted face. Bunt passed them again, having turned back around to the main street. “I’d hide that… Stop wearing it. Hide it. Sell it. Give it away. That’s my advice. Thing like that’s going to draw attention, and I guess you don’t want any of that.” He continued on.

“What do we do now?” Mat demanded. “We’re in Caemlyn, but what do we do? Even if they are here, Rand, how could we find them in all this?”

“Moiraine will find us,” Rand said slowly. Mat rolled his eyes and leaned on his friend’s shoulder, coughing shallowly. He smaller boy closed his eyes, breathing in the sureness that was Rand.

“They’re alive. Egwene’s alive!” Rand’s sudden words startled Mat.

He had forgotten about Egwene. Rand’s little love interest. Stupid Egwene. He coughed up a whole petal in one try, sliding it into his pocket. Eight. “Maybe,” he said with a wheezy sigh. “Maybe. What if Moiraine doesn’t find us? What if nobody does but the… the…” He shuddered, unable to say it.

“We’ll think about that when it happens. If it happens. Thom said to find an inn called The Queen’s Blessing. We’ll go there first.”

Mat looked up at him incredulously. “How? We can’t afford one meal between the two of us.”

“At least it’s a place to start. Thom thought we could find help there.”

“I can’t… Rand, they’re everywhere.” He dropped Rand’s hand and hugged himself tightly, walking further back into the side street. “Wherever we go, they’re right behind us, or they’re waiting for us. They’ll be at The Queen’s Blessing, too.” He leaned against a wall, head down and eyes closed. “I can’t… I… Nothing’s going to stop a Fade.”

Rand grabbed Mat’s collar, jerking the smaller boy out of his self-pity, pulled up to his tip-toes to match the height he was pulled to. Rand leaned down, face so close their noses almost touched. Mat looked up with worry, hands reaching up to pull Rand off him. At any other situation, he would’ve had a witty reply, a way to brush off Rand’s reaction. Instead he stared, eyes tracing Rand’s lips up to his clouded eyes.

Rand let go and turned away. Mat bent over coughing, fanning himself slightly, a strange heat coming over him. When Rand turned back around, Mat looked composed, or at least he hoped so.

The taller boy stepped close, bringing his face close to Mat’s. The darker boy rose up a little on his toes, only slightly closer.

“We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?” Rand said hoarsely. “They haven’t caught us yet. We can make it all the way, if we just don’t quit. I won’t just quit and wait for them like a sheep for slaughter. I won’t! Well? Are you going to stand here till you starve to death? Or until they come pick you up in a sack?” Rand turned away and walked, slowly.

Mat could barely walk as he coughed, sure that he would bring up a whole garden if he didn’t stop. He took a gasp of air. “I’m sorry, Rand.”

“Forget it.” His face was softer, and he looked over with concern.

Mat took Rand’s hand, feeling his throat ease. “I can’t stop thinking I’ll never see home again.” He wasn’t even sure if he would see tomorrow.

He went on. “I want to go home. Laugh if you want; I don’t care.” That was a lie.

The words kept spilling out “What I wouldn’t give to have my mother blessing me out for something right now. It’s like weights on my brain; hot weights. Strangers all around, and no way to tell who to trust, if I can trust anybody. Light, the Two Rivers is so far away it might as well be on the other side of the world. We’re alone, and we’ll never get home. We’re going to die, Rand.”

“Not yet we won’t,” Rand said with certainty. “Everybody dies. The Wheel turns. I’m not going to curl up and wait for it to happen, though.”

Mat smiled, a tickle in his raw throat. “You sound like Master Al’Vere.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was surprised how much Rand tugs Mat around. Poor boy is going to have a stroke with Rand acting like this.  
Don't forget to check in Friday/Saturday for the next chapter :D


	15. Chapter 15

They asked many folks for directions to The Queen’s Blessing, hopefully making their way closer to the inn each time. Some people were plain rude, making inappropriate comments or gestures, and others ignored them or brushed them off as fools who didn’t know where they belonged.

Some of the answers were strange, like a man who replied with; “The Queen’s Blessing, eh?” The man they asked was almost as wide as Perrin, a white cockade on his wide-brimmed hat and a white armband on his sleeve. “You country boys Queen’s men? Well, you’ve come too late.” The man laughed, leaving them confused. They were too late for what?

Mat couldn’t help being suspicious of everyone. They all looked so different, dressed so differently, lived so differently. How could they be trusted if Mat himself didn’t know what was normal? Everyone stood out in a different way, their clothing so strange, some exposing far more skin than Mat had ever seen on a woman or a man. Some were covered from head-to-toe, some with veils and pointed hats and vivid colours. Even physically, their skin was too dark or too light to blend in, hair ranging from raven black to a pale blonde, some too short or too stocky.

People had different ways of moving about, too. Sedan chairs were common, people poised high above others, carried by polemen who shoved through the crowds with little care for their reactions. A fight broke out, once, when a poleman shoved someone who shoved back, sending the sedan chair occupant sprawling to the ground. Mat was glad to let Rand take his hand and pull him away from the fight.

People looked at them askance for it, but surely word hadn’t travelled so far so soon of their appearance. Sometimes strangers approached them, plainly ignoring their linked hands, offering them prized relics. The first time, Mat was willing to spend precious coin on a piece of the false Dragon’s sword, but Rand reminded him how little they had left. They were offered so many pieces of a relic of the false Dragon that Mat could have pieced together a few dozen swords.

Rand pulled him over to a shop displaying cloth and cord.

“Rand, you said it yourself, we barely have any coin left.” Mat protested.

Rand leaned close, not wanting the shopkeeper to overhear. “I need something to cover the heron-marks.” Mat sighed, not wanting to protest any more.

The shopkeeper gave them a forced smile, eyeing them up and down with a curl of disgust on his lips. Rand bought red cloth, with a white cord, the cheaper of the options. Mat had seen a lot of people wearing the red and white cloth, tied around hats and sword hilts and sleeves. A strange fashion, but at least Rand could cover up his sword without it being obvious.

“Is there a place inside I could wrap my sword?” Rand asked innocently.

The man cursed at them.

“We didn’t come to see Logain, we just came to see Caemlyn,” Rand protested. Mat rolled his eyes. As if that was going to help their situation. “The grandest city in the world. The Light illuminate good Queen Morgase.” Mat barely stopped himself from laughing aloud.

“You make any trouble, and there’s a hundred men in sound of my voice will take care of you even if the Guards won’t. Get on about your filthy business.”

Rand nodded at the man, as if the shopkeeper had wished them a nice day. Mat glared at the fellow, staring over his shoulder. He mumbled to himself, unable to believe people acted like that. Rand pulled him into a thin alley. Mat coughed dryly, thinking of how secluded the two of them were.

He dropped Mat’s hand and pulled out the sword, wrapping the cloth around the hilt.

“I bet he charged you double for that bloody cloth,” Mat scoffed. “Triple.”

He looked around, stepping back a few paces to look up and down the narrow space. “They’ll all be trying to cheat us, Rand.” He stepped back near Rand. “They think we’ve come to see the false Dragon, like everybody else. We’ll be lucky if someone doesn’t hit us on the head while we sleep. This is no place to be. There are too many people.”

Rand straightened from fastening his sword, leaning against the alley wall. Mat continued talked, moving closer to Rand, up in his face to exaggerate his point. “Let’s leave for Tar Valon now. Or south, to Illian. I wouldn’t mind seeing them gather for the Hunt of the Horn. If we can’t go home, let’s just go.”

The taller boy grabbed his hands, pulling them away from his face. “I’m staying.” He leaned in closer to Mat, faces almost touching, anger clouding in his eyes. “If they’re not here already, they’ll come here sooner or later, looking for us.”

Mat dropped his eyes and stepped away, letting Rand take one hand and pull him along.

Finally, they got the directions they wanted, and stood in front of The Queen’s Blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mat. I'm taking him on a bit of a whirlwind.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly loved writing this chapter. I had a computer issue and lost the back half of it and had to re-write it, which sucked. But I got so inspired after writing it that I wrote another 3 chapters, so worth it.

A broad stone building sat in front of them, the sign over the door creaking as the wind swept it. The Queen’s Blessing, proclaimed the sign, with the image a man kneeling before a woman with red-gold hair and a crown, one of her hands resting on his bowed head.

“Are you sure about this?” Mat asked nervously.

Rand squeezed his hand once and released it. It wasn’t safe for them to keep doing this. People might recognise them.

“Of course.” Rand pushed open the door.

Mat stepped in after him, letting the door swing shut behind him. His eyes swept the wide common room, looking for danger. Only a few of the many tables had people at them, seeming a crowd for this time of morning. None of them looked drunken, not like at the Dancing Cartman, but they eyed the newcomers warily.

The serving maids seemed content in their stations, sweeping a clean floor and polishing shining candlesticks. They smiled at the boys, and Mat fought to keep from glowering at them. The room was large and had two large fireplaces heating the space, something Mat was glad for. The aroma of roasting beef and baking bread drifted from the kitchen, and Mat could feel his stomach growl.

A pink-faced man approached them, the starched white apron stretched over his bulk and pleasant demeanour marking him as the innkeeper. He introduced himself as Basil Gill with a warm, ready smile.

“Master Gill,” Rand said, “a friend of ours told us to come here. Thom Merrilin -” Mat watched Basil Gill’s smile slip, and he immediately wished they had never set foot in the Queen’s Blessing. “Is something wrong?” Rand had seen him falter, too. “You do know him?”

“I know him,” Master Gill said curtly, eyeing the instrument case sat at Rand’s hip. “Come with me now.” He jerked his head toward the back and started across the common room.

Rand tugged on Mat’s sleeve before setting off after the innkeeper. Mat paused to cough up a large petal tickling at his throat, tucking it into his pocket and starting off after Rand.

Master Gill lead them to the kitchens, the sweet smells sending Mat’s stomach rumbling and his mouth watering. He hadn’t eaten in two days, any broth would smell good at this rate, but the food preparing in Master Gill’s kitchen smelt as good as any hard-earned meal back home.

The innkeeper stepped away from talking to the cook, a round woman with her hair pinned in a bun at the back of her head. She was as fat as the innkeeper, something Mat was glad to see. A skinny innkeeper was never to be trusted.

Rand nudged Mat’s arm. Mat quickly wiped the drool from his chin, pulling back from leaning nose-first at the pots.

The innkeeper hurried them out the back door and down to the stableyard. He looked around checking to see if anyone was in sight, then rounded on Rand. “What’s in the case, lad?”

“Thom’s flute,” Rand said slowly. He held out the case and unfastened the clasps, flute presented as if for inspection. Why would he hold it out like that? This Basil Gill was just as likely to take it and run as any other person. Mat clutched the dagger under his coat, thumbing the ruby hilt, prepared to slash at the innkeeper if he made a lunge for it.

“Aye, I recognise it. I saw him play it often enough, and there’s not likely two like that outside a royal court.” The man wasn’t smiling anymore, and Mat slid the dagger out of its’ pocket, hand still under his coat. “How did you come by it? Thom would part with his arm as soon as that flute.”

Rand closed the case. “He gave it to me.” He paused to set the case on the ground and show Master Gill the patched cloak and harp case. “Thom’s dead, Master Gill. If he was your friend, I’m sorry. He was mine, too.”

“Dead, you say. How?”

“A… a man tried to kill us. Thom pushed this at me and told us to run.” Mat eyed Basil Gill as Rand folded the cloak back up. “We’d have been killed if it hadn’t been for him. We were on our way to Caemlyn together. He told us to come here, to your inn.”

The innkeeper snorted quietly. “I’ll believe he’s dead when I see his corpse.”

He dared accuse Rand of lying? When his supposed friend was dead? Mat pulled the dagger further out of his coat but stopped when the man continued.

“Nay, nay, I believe you saw what ever it was you saw; I just don’t believe he’s dead. He’s a harder man to kill than you might believe, is old Thom Merrilin.”

Rand’s hand rested on Mat’s shoulder and he felt Rand lean slightly closer. “It’s all right, Mat. He’s a friend.”

That eased Mat’s thoughts. Rand was good at reading people, wasn’t he? He knew who to trust, he could keep them safe. Mat eased the dagger back into his coat and slipped his hand down, pulling away from Rand even as he started reaching for his hand.

The innkeeper sighed, looking over at Mat. “I suppose I am at that.”

Just because he trusted Rand didn’t mean he trusted Master Gill. Mat folded his arms over his chest to keep them still, but he watched the innkeeper intently.

Master Gill turned to Rand again. “Coming to Caemlyn, you say?” He shook his head. “This is the last place on earth I’d expect Thom to come, excepting maybe it was Tar Valon.” A stableman walked past and the innkeeper lowered his voice. “You’ve trouble with Aes Sedai, I take it.”

Both boys spoke at the same time. “Yes,” said Mat, as Rand said, “What makes you think that?”

The innkeeper chuckled dryly. “I know the man, that’s what. He’d jump into that kind of trouble, especially to help a couple of lads about the age of you. Now… ah… I’m not making any accusations, mind, but… ah… I take it neither of you can… ah… what I’m getting at is… ah… what exactly is the nature of your trouble with Tar Valon, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Mat’s eyes widened in fear. Was he suggesting they could channel the One Power?

“No, no, nothing like that.” Rand reassured the man. “I swear. There was even an Aes Sedai helping us, Moiraine was…” He trailed off.

“Glad to hear it. Not that I’ve all that much love for Aes Sedai, but better them than… that other thing.” He shook his head slowly. “Too much talk of that kind of thing, with Logain being brought here. No offense meant, you understand, but… well, I had to know, didn’t I?”

“No offense,” Rand said.

“Not to you, at least,” Mat mumbled. The other two didn’t seem to hear him.

“You two look the right sort, and I do believe you were – are – friends of Thom, but it’s hard times and stony days. I don’t suppose you can pay?”  
Rand shook his head.

“No, I didn’t think so,” the innkeeper continued. “There’s not enough of anything, and what there is costs the earth, so I’ll give you beds – not the best, but warm and dry – and something to eat, and I cannot promise more, however much I’d like.”

“Thank you,” Rand said, looking down at Mat who still watched Master Gill sourly. “It’s more than I expected.”

Why should they expect anything? Two boys from off the street, grubby and starved, claim to know a wealthy innkeeper’s long lost friend, and are suddenly expected to get the Light itself handed to them?

“Well, Thom’s a good friend. An old friend. Hot-headed and liable to say the worst possible thing to the one person he shouldn’t, but a good friend all the same. If he doesn’t show up… well, we’ll figure something out then. Best you don’t talk any more talk about Aes Sedai helping you. I’m a good Queen’s man, but there are too many in Caemlyn right now who’d take it wrong, and I don’t mean just the Whitecloaks.”

Mat snorted, digust tarnishing his words. “For all I care, the ravens can take every Aes Sedai straight to Shayol Ghul!”

“Watch your tongue,” the innkeeper snapped.

Mat recoiled in surprise. He had thought the man hated Aes Sedai, too.

“I said I don’t love them; I didn’t say I’m a fool thinks they’re behind everything that’s wrong. The Queen supports Elaida, and the Guards stand for the Queen. The  
Light send things don’t go so bad that changes. Anyway, lately some Guards have forgotten themselves enough to be a little rough with folks they overhead speaking against Aes Sedai. Not on duty, thank the Light, but it’s happened, just the same. I don’t need off duty Guards breaking up my common room to teach you a lesson, and I don’t need Whitecloaks egging somebody on to paint the Dragon’s Fang on my door, so if you want any help out of me, you just keep thoughts about Aes Sedai to yourself, good or bad.”

He complains about Aes Sedai, but gets mad when Mat talks ill of them? How were they supposed to trust this man if he couldn’t even make up his own mind? He wasn’t turning them in now, but who knew what would happen when he changed his mind?

The innkeeper continued. “Maybe it’s best if you don’t mention Thom’s name, either, where anyone but me can hear. Some of the Guards have long memories, and so does the Queen. No need taking chances.”

Why would any of the Guards care about a gleeman? What had he done to upset the Queen?

“Thom had trouble with the Queen?” Rand said, echoing Mat’s thoughts.

Basil Gill laughed. “So he didn’t tell you everything.”

Apparently not. But telling a few country lads everything about yourself isn’t something a gleeman would normally do, or something anyone would do for that matter.

“Don’t know why he should,” the innkeeper continued. “On the other hand, I don’t know why you shouldn’t know, either. Not like it’s a secret, exactly. Do you think every gleeman thinks of himself as much as Thom does? Well, come to think of it, I guess they do, but it always seemed to be Thom had an extra helping of thinking a lot of himself. He wasn’t always a gleeman, you know, wandering from village to village and sleeping under a hedge as often as not. There was a time Thom Merrilin was a Court-bard right here in Caemlyn, and known in every court from Tear to Maradon.”

“Thom?” Mat asked.

Rand nodded slowly beside him, face distant as he was thinking. Mat knew that look, surprising himself as he realised how much he adored it. Rand would stare off past whoever he was talking with, inner-monologue clear on his face as he considered their words.

“That he was,” Master Gill said. “It was not long after Taringail Damodred died that the… trouble about his nephew cropped up. There were some said Thom was, shall we say, closer to the Queen than was proper.

“But Morgase was a young widow, and Thom was in his prime, then, and the Queen can do as she wishes is the way I look at it. Only she’s always had a temper, our good Morgase, and he took off without a word when he learned what kind of trouble his nephew was in. The Queen didn’t much like that.

“Didn’t like him meddling in Aes Sedai matters, either. Can’t say I think it was right, either, nephew or no. Anyway, when he came back, he said some words, all right. Words you don’t say to a Queen. Words you don’t say to any woman with Morgase’s spirit.

“Elaida was set against him because of his trying to mix in the business with his nephew, and between the Queen’s temper and Elaida’s animosity, Thom left Caemlyn half a step ahead of a trip to prison, if not the headman’s axe. As far as I know, the writ still stands.”

“If it was a long time ago,” Rand said, “maybe nobody remembers.”

Master Gill shook his head. “Gareth Bryne is Captain-General of the Queen’s Guards. He personally commanded the Guardsmen Morgase sent to bring Thom back in chains, and I misdoubt he’ll ever forget returning empty-handed to find Thom had already been back to the Palace and left again.

”And the Queen never forgets _anything_. You ever know a woman who did? My, but Morgase was in a taking. I’ll swear the whole city walked soft and whispered for a month. Plenty of other Guardsmen old enough to remember, too. No, best you keep Thom as close a secret as you keep that Aes Sedai of yours. Come, I’ll get you something to eat. You look as if your bellies are knowing at your backbones.”

Rand grabbed Mat’s hand as they followed Master Gill. Mat tripped and blushed beet red, realising why he thought so highly of Rand as of recent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe. You’ll all have to wait till next week to get more.  
I found it quite interesting to write about them entering the common room. Rand looks around at the space, then the people, but because of Mat being paranoid I made it the other way around.  
Also I’m quite proud of that chapter. I think it’s one of the longest yet, and I was able to add a few cute moments in there to break up the normal storyline.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s so much plot related stuff in here, it bulks up the chapters but makes it so tedious to write. I’m honestly not sure how far the story will go with the actual storyline, so I need to keep it in here to establish plot. There are of course a few points missed being from Mat’s POV, but not much that can be done about that.  
This week will be triple upload :D I'm uploading a chapter on Thursday and Saturday, cause they're nice and short.

Mat’s mind raced as he let Rand lead him to the corner table in the common room where Master Gill sat. He was dimly aware of sitting down, eyes fixed on the table in front of him. Their hands hung clasped between them.

There was no way he… _liked_ Rand. In _that_ way.____

_ _ _ _Could he actually…? No._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Maybe._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Did he have a crush on Rand? Did he like him, like that? Mat mentally cursed himself, he sounded like a girl with her hair unbraided dreaming of marrying some idiot she’d danced with at Bel Tine._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _A plate was sat at the table in front of him but he continued staring, not realising they were talking around him._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _His throat was uncomfortably tight; he could feel petals clogging his airways, but he couldn’t cough them up and hide them this close to everyone._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Did he love Rand?_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Mat looked up at him, realising the taller boy was speaking. Mat pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind, he could deal with that later. He was always good at ignoring his problems._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“We just kept on till we reached Caemlyn,” Rand was saying. Mat didn’t know what Rand was talking about, but he trusted that he knew what he was doing. “That was the plan, originally. Caemlyn, and then Tar Valon.” Rand released Mat’s hand and shifted uneasily in his seat. Mat gripped his own chair to keep from snatching Rand’s hand back. That would be suspicious, surely Rand would realise how Mat felt. Not that he felt anything, of course. “If we stay on that route, the others will be able to find us, sooner or later.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“If they’re alive,” Mat said darkly._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Rand continued speaking to Master Gill. “It could bring you trouble, helping us.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _The innkeeper waved off the warning. “Can’t say I want trouble, but it wouldn’t be the first I’ve seen. No bloody Darkfriend will make me turn my back on Thom’s friends. This friend of yours from up north, now -” That was a bland way to refer to Moiraine. “- if she comes to Caemlyn, I’ll hear. There are people keeping their eyes on comings and goings like that around here, and word spreads.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Rand paused, looking away for a moment. “What about Elaida?”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _The innkeeper hesitated, then shook his head and went on. “I don’t think so. Maybe if you didn’t have a connection to Thom. She’d wrinkle it out, then where would you be? No telling. Maybe in a cell. Maybe worse. They say she has a way of feeling things, what’s happened, what’s going to happen. They say she can cut right through to what a man wants to hide. I don’t know, but I wouldn’t risk it. If it wasn’t for Thom, you could go to the Guards. They’d take care of any Darkfriends quick enough. But even if you could keep Thom quiet from Guards, word would reach Elaida as soon as you mentioned Darkfriends, and then you’re back where we started.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“No Guards,” Rand said. He turned to look at Mat, and the smaller boy realised he had been staring at Rand._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Mat turned to his food, quickly stuffing a gravy-coated potato in his mouth. He nodded vigorously, gravy dripping down his chin. Considering all they had been through, it would be suspicious to not be eating. He pushed around a piece of chicken as the conversation continued._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Trouble is, you’re caught up in the fringes of politics, lad, even if it’s none of your doing, and politics is a foggy mire full of snakes.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“What about -” Rand began, stopped as the innkeeper rose from his chair._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Mat turned to see the cook standing in the doorway, wiping her hands on her starched apron. She beckoned the innkeeper and turned into her kitchen._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Might as well be married to her,” Master Gill sighed. Mat winced at the mention of marriage._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Finds things that need fixing before I know there’s anything wrong. If it’s not the drains stopped up, or the downspouts clogged, it’s the rats.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Mat choked silently on his petals. Rats?_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“I keep a clean place, you understand, but with so many people in the city, rats are everywhere. Crowd people together and you get rats, and Caemlyn has a plague of them all of a sudden. You wouldn’t believe what a good cat, a prime ratter, fetches these days. Your room is in the attic. I’ll tell the girls which; any of them can show you to it. And don’t worry about Darkfriends. I can’t say much good about the Whitecloaks, but between them and the Guards, that sort won’t dare show their filthy faces in Caemlyn.” He pushed his chair in, standing behind it with his hands perched on the back. “I hope it isn’t the drains again.” The innkeeper followed to where the cook had disappeared._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Mat stared glumly at the food on his plate._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“I thought you were hungry,” Rand said around a mouthful of food._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Mat jumped, but kept staring at his plate, pushing a piece of potato around as Rand spoke._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“You have to eat, Mat. We have to keep up our strength if we’re going to reach Tar Valon.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Mat laughed, a low, bitter, sarcastic sound escaping the petals clogging his throat. They blocked the path of the food, the main reason Mat had stopped eating, or at least that’s what he told himself._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _He couldn’t believe it. “Tar Valon! All this time it’s been Caemlyn. Moiraine would be waiting for us in Caemlyn.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Mat glared at Rand, eyes locked together in a stare Mat wanted to hold forever. “We’d find Perrin and _Egwene_ in Caemlyn. Everything would be all right if we only got to Caemlyn. Well, here we are, and nothing’s right.” Not even his head was working right. “No Moiraine, no _Egwene_, no anybody. Now it’s everything will be alright if we only get to Tar Valon.” Stupid Egwene. Rand loved her, didn’t he? She was in Mat’s way._____ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“We’re alive,” Rand snapped. He took a deep breath and spoke softer. “We are alive. That much is alright.” Alive and together. “And I intend to stay alive. I intend to find out why we’re so important. I won’t give up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Why were they so important?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Mat sighed, breaking the gaze and staring at his plate. His tight throat made his voice weak. “All these people, and any of them could be Darkfriends. Master Gill promised to help us awfully quick. What kind of man just shrugs off Aes Sedai and Darkfriends? It isn’t natural. Any decent person would tell us to get out, or…” His voice was barely holding out to a whisper past the petals. “or... or… something.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _He held both hands to his face, coughing violently enough to make people turn to look at them. Rand stayed silent, sympathy radiating off him. Mat shoved both fists into his pockets, petals and flowers crushed beneath his hard grip. He gasped air as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw any more attention._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“Eat,” Rand said softly, holding a cut piece of beef on a folk up to Mat’s lips. Mat glanced around the room, waiting for someone to yell at them for being disgusting. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _No one was watching them anymore._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _He leaned forward at an insistent shake of the fork and let Rand feed him the beef. He chewed slowly, indignantly screwing his face up in a childish manner. Rand smiled and Mat felt his stomach flutter at the sight._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Rand stared off again, making that same expression he did when he was thinking too hard about something. He ate, face never changing as he thought._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Mat didn’t want to think. There was too much going on. How much did Master Gill know? What did he think of Rand? Was Moiraine ever going to save them? Were the others alive? Was it possible for them to be? Did he love Rand?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _He ate the rest of his food quickly. He didn’t have time to think about Rand, not in that way, not right now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Mat still doesn’t know how to feel. I’m borrowing inspiration from my own ability to ignore my feelings, until they explode.  
If any of you guys remember the next part of the novel well enough (after Rand’s garden incident) you might be prepared for what’s coming in a few chapters. Just thought I’d warn you now.  
Don't forget to check in Thursday and Friday for the next chapters.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly forgot to post this, quarantine has me going crazy.  
Here it is, don't forget to check back Saturday for the next chapter!

Once Mat had pushed away his plate, a serving maid came to take them to their room. She was annoying, giggling whenever Rand looked at her and twisting her skirt around. If Rand hadn’t been there, Mat might have gotten rid of her just for acting like that. His stomach twisted every time she giggled at Rand, and it took him almost to the top flight stairs to realise he was jealous.

Rand was staring back at her, a small smile on his face. He looked awkward, but he certainly looked interested in her. Mat’s stomach dropped and he was glad to step into their room and flop down on the bed. Stupid Rand. Stupid serving maid. Stupid crush.

He just wanted to sleep. He didn’t want to think about anything. He grabbed the dagger and held it in a panicked grip. Something was going to attack them for sure, he had to be ready.

“You just going to lie up here hiding?” Rand said firmly.

Mat didn’t look at him. “I’m tired.” He lied.

“We have questions to ask Master Gill, yet.” The end of the bed sank under a weight, probably Rand sat at the end of it, and Mat adamantly avoided looking at him. “He might even be able to tell us how to find Egwene, and Perrin.”

Stupid Egwene.

Rand went on. “They could be in Caemlyn already if they managed to hang onto their horses.”

“They’re dead,” Mat wheezed, bringing a hand up to cough up another flower. If the rest of them weren’t dead, hopefully Egwene was.

He could feel Rand lean closer, then sigh. The redhead got up and walked out, softly closing the door behind him.

Mat groaned, rolling over onto his back.

He stared mournfully at the door, wishing Rand would come back through.

Light, Mat was in love, wasn’t he?

He coughed shallowly. The flower coming up made him choke and he sat up, coughing harshly into his lap. Flowers tumbled from his lips, he never knew a human could fit so many inside their body. The red and golden petals filled his lap. He pulled the rest out his pockets, crumpled and dying. He picked up a flower that was mostly intact, instantly recognising it.

It was a snapdragon, a little flower that grew in bunches, usually white or pink. He pushed at the sides, watching the little mouth open to show its gold cavern. He ripped it, pulling the petals apart, examining the gold stripes. It wasn’t actual gold, no matter how much it shone like it.

He picked up his pillow and shoved the small garden in there, making sure to pick up every last scrap of the red petals.

Mat rose from his bed, dagger clutched in one hand. He rubbed his thumb over the ruby in the hilt. His knuckles turned white as he remembered Rand rubbing his thumb over Mat’s hand when they would walk with their hands clasped. It made sense now, why he kept holding hands even though Rand could walk fine, and he could see fine. Why would Rand want to, though? Did he…? No, that was impossible.

He coughed up another snapdragon, setting the flower on his bed.

He sat on the floor, sifting through their packs. He didn’t know what he was looking for. He gave up trying to search for nothing.

Mat collapsed back on his bed, tucking the flower into his pillow. He rolled to his side, tucking the dagger under his pillow and holding it tight.

On the edge of sleep, his mind betrayed him. He could vaguely remember Rand and him, under the bushes past Four Kings. Mat clutching Rand and feeling safe. Crying as his dreams woke him, cuddled in Rand’s arms. Oh, blood and ashes, there was no way he didn’t love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should mention, I know there’s not _that_ much height difference between Mat and Rand, but height difference is the best trope and you all can fight me.  
I hope you understood the reference of the snapdragons.  
Don't forget to check back in Saturday for another upload!__


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so because I’m skipping all the Rand scenes I kinda have to infer what’s been happening. Mat mentions seeing Loial, so I assume something happened there.  
Sorry if there's more mistakes than usual, I completely forgot to edit this and had to spend a few minutes skimming for mistakes before the upload.

Footsteps. Where was he? Mat blinked and sat up groggily.

A sharp tap at the door scared him and he grabbed his dagger and crouched on the bed, ready to attack whoever came through.

Rand opened the door and stuck his head on, relief flooding his face when he saw Mat.

“Mat,” he said excitedly, “Look who I met!” The redhead stepped in the room and a large face poked its head into the room.

Mat yelped and lunged forward, dagged aimed at the Trolloc standing in the doorway. He tripped on the sheets tangled between his legs and fell, swinging wildly in an attempt to hit the monster.

Rand caught him, strong arms catching his torso just before his head hit the ground. Mat flushed bright pink, stomach fluttering as he felt Rand pull him onto the bed. The taller boy held Mat’s arms to keep them still.

“Mat. Mat! It’s okay, he’s an Ogier!” Rand said carefully.

“Let go of me, Rand, there’s a bloody Trolloc standing in the doorway!” Mat thrashed around in Rand’s grip, snarling at the creature.

The beast quietly moved inside, making as wide an arc as he could around the two boys to sit on Rand’s bed.

It didn’t seem to want to attack them, sitting harmlessly on the bed. Mat glared at it, mouth slightly open and teeth bared, struggling to sit up on his knees. He clutched the dagger tightly, struggling against Rand.

The redhead sighed and put his arms around Mat, trapping his arms against his side. Mat sat, almost in Rand’s lap, letting himself be pulled down. He could smell Rand, the way his scent mingled with the stale air of room, could feel his arms holding him.

“I’m sorry Loial.”

“No need for that, Rand Al’Thor,” the creature said, voice booming across the small space. Mat whimpered almost silently, the noise muffled in his throat. He leaned into Rand, trying to get away from the beast. He could hear Rand’s heart pounding. Was he scared of it, too? But Rand seemed to be acting friendly towards it.

“Ah, maybe it would be better if I waited for you back downstairs.” The creature rose from its seat and shuffled awkwardly out of the room.

Mat snarled again, leaning into Rand to keep away from it.

Once the door closed again, Rand released Mat from his grip and sighed. Mat moved quickly, not wanting to be caught enjoying Rand’s affection too much.

He curled up on his pillow and coughed again, dropping the flower into his lap.

“Why did you bring that in here?” Mat spat.

Rand stared at him in disbelief. “He’s an Ogier, Mat, not a Trolloc!” Rand huffed and stood up, lost for words. “Blood and ashes, Mat, what’s wrong with you?!”

Mat stared fearfully as Rand left the room, door slamming behind him.

What had he done? Why was he acting like this? Did Rand hate him now? He sat up, leaning on all fours to hack up flowers onto the bed in front of him. He was glad it was only flowers.

Mat pulled the blankets over himself, digging his face into the pillow. Light, why was he acting like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, downward spiral. Writing this kinda felt like a wild mood swing, Mat's emotions jump around so much.  
Next chapter on Monday, as per usual :)  
Thank you so much for all the comments, I'm really glad people are enjoying this because it's been so much fun to write. Don't be afraid to comment, I value them so much!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it taking so long today. I've been kinda stressed lately, although I'm sure everyone is.  
This week I'm also uploading Thursday!

“Excuse me?” A girl’s voice called out from behind the door. She knocked.

Mat grabbed the dagger and sat up, staring wide-eyed at the wooden door.

“Go away!” he shouted.

“R-Rand Al’Thor told me to bring this food up for you. Can I come in?” She sounded sweet. But she said she had been talking to Rand. Maybe it was safe. No, it couldn’t be. They would all be trying to kill them. Where was Rand? Was he already dead?

“Leave me alone! I don’t want any of your poisoned food, witch!”

The voice outside the door went shaky. “I’ll l-leave it o-outside the d-door for you.” He heard the tray clink on the ground and fast footsteps running away from the room.

Mat was hungry, he really was, but he couldn’t trust any of the serving maids. Surely they would just want him gone, right? More room for paying customers, less food to be given out. He’d already ignored the previous meals offered up by serving maids, one witch foolish enough to enter the room would have gotten his dagger through her eye if she hadn’t run as fast as she did.

His stomach growled and he pulled the blankets up over his head. It was too bright.

The door opened and Mat sprung up, dagger held out towards the intruder. Rand stood there, two plates of food balancing across one arm and the other held up in surrender.

“Blood and ashes, Mat, it’s just me.” Rand sighed.

Mat lowered the dagger and mumbled down at his blankets. “Sorry.”

Rand closed the door and sat beside him on the bed, laying a plate of food in front of him. “Eat. You haven’t eaten anything since we got here.”

“How do I know it’s safe?” Mat said, eyeing the plate warily.

“Safe? Well- I…” Rand ran his hands through his hair and stared at the ceiling. After a few seconds he turned to look back at Mat. “What do you want me to do, feed it to you?”

Mat flushed and turned away, ignoring Rand’s comment. Or at least pretending to. A thousand thoughts rushed through his head at what Rand had said, and he was unsure how to reply.

A folk clinked against his plate and he turned around. Rand was holding out a folk, a piece of potato speared on it.

“It might be poisoned, still.” Mat said between clenched teeth. His stomach growled loudly.

“Would I feed you poisoned food, Mat?” Rand wiggled the folk in front of his face and Mat sighed and snatched the food up between his teeth.

He could remember trying to feed Rand when he was sick in that barn. At least Mat wouldn’t be throwing up from sickness if he ate this. If it was poisoned, he might be lucky enough to be throwing up any bad food.

Rand seemed surprised, but Mat was too hungry to care what he thought. The taller boy held another piece up to him and Mat moved closer to take it.

With his plate half cleared, Mat was sitting right beside Rand. As Rand held up another bit of steak, he took the folk from his hand to let Rand eat. The redhead had hardly touched anything on his plate, just a few bits of steak to prove that it wasn’t poisoned.

Rand stared as Mat fed himself, seeming surprised. Mat looked up and gave Rand an innocent look as he slowly reached out and took a carrot from Rand’s plate.

Rand looked down in confusion, eyes sparking as he realised. He gave a short bark of laughter, and moved his plate away. “I’ve hardly eaten anything, you common thief. You’ve got your own plate of food right there!” He lunged and grabbed food from Mat’s plate, laughing and jumping out of Mat’s reach.

Seeing the abandoned plate, Mat took the opportunity to swipe the entire plate, sitting it in his lap. He gave Rand a gleeful smile and stuffed food in his mouth.

Rand snatched his own plate back, putting it beside him and cradling over it as he laughed.

Mat leaned across Rand, using his folk to stretch across his lap and spear the food. Rand moved his plate behind him and Mat curled more around him, reaching for the plate. He conceded defeat and let Rand take his own food back.

After a few moments, Rand cleared his throat, and Mat realised he was still laying across Rand’s lap. “Sorry,” he said, moving back to his pillow. Rand stared at him, face bright red and eyes searching. Mat broke the eye contact and grabbed his own plate and quickly ate it. He retrieved his dagger from the blankets where it had fallen and returned it to his coat.

They ate in silence for the rest of the meal, and Rand quietly took their plates downstairs while Mat settled into his bed.

Mat feigned sleep when Rand returned, leaving his bottom eye open to watch the door as it opened. Rand yawned and gave Mat a sleepy smile before getting ready for bed. He hadn’t known Mat was awake. He’d just… smiled? For what reason?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have a little fun with this chapter, as kinda a last hurruh before it all goes downhill.  
Don't forget to check in on Thursday for the next chapter :D


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy, see you on Monday! :D

Each day they repeated this process, Rand bringing him food and feeding it to him, before Mat would take the folk and eat by himself. Morning and night, when Master Gill provided them food. After eating, Mat would return to being as sulky and distant as ever, often arguing with Rand over stupid things. Every morning Rand would plead for Mat to join him around the city, then leave when Mat refused.

This morning, Mat slept soundly, not hearing Rand wake or hear him go downstairs to collect their food. When he door creaked open in his return, Mat jerked up out of his sheets with his dagger in his hand. He slid it back into his coat when he saw Rand and shuffled over to let Rand sit on the bed beside him.

He put Mat’s food on the bed and set his own plate on his lap. Mat didn’t touch the food. Just because Rand brought it up, didn’t mean it was safe. Rand was only eating his own food, it might have been just Mat’s plate that was poisoned, maybe by the cook in retaliation for not eating all the previous meals cooked for him.

When Mat didn’t eat, Rand took his folk and held out food for Mat. “Eat.”

The smaller boy grumbled, but did let Rand feed him. After deciding this was test enough for poison, he took the folk from Rand and ate off his own plate.

A clamour of crowds from outside the window caught Mat’s attention. They were louder than usual.

“They’re bringing the False Dragon through the city today,” Rand said when he saw Mat looking out the window. “Come with me, Mat.”

“I’ll leave it to you to get knocked over the head in that crowd,” Mat said sourly. In truth, he didn’t trust his flowers to not make him an easy target. “Lucky if you don’t get trampled.”

Rand sighed and stood up, grabbing Mat’s plate and holding the last bit of food out to him.

Mat grabbed it, sulking, and chewed slowly. He settled back into his blankets, the crunch of dried flowers beneath his head loud to his ears.

The taller boy watched out the window, gawking at the crowds.

“Mat, please.”

“No.”

The redhead stared at the city. Mat rolled over to watch him, watch the way the light caught his hair and turned it golden, the way he gleefully saw the world.

Rand sighed, trying again to convince him. “Are you coming?”

Mat glared at him. “Take that Trolloc you’re so friendly with.”

The taller boy leant against the window, exasperated. “Blood and ashes, Mat, he’s not a Trolloc. You’re just being stubborn stupid. How many times do you want to have this argument? Light, it’s as if you’ve never heard of an Ogier before.”

“I never heard they looked like Trollocs,” Mat grumbled, pushing his face into his pillow to stifle his coughing, whole body moving with the effort.

“Stubborn stupid.” Rand took a step closer, standing over him. Mat scrambled to hide the flowers. “How long are you going to hide up here? I’m not going to keep bringing you your meals up those stairs forever. You could do with a bath, too.”

Mat burrowed deeper into the bed, head pushed into the pillow and blankets curled around him. He didn’t want to hear Rand talking like that.

The taller boy huffed, turning and walking to the door. He paused, looking back, and said softly, “Last chance to go together, Mat. I’m leaving now.”

Mat didn’t move, stirring only when he heard the door close and the sound of Rand’s footsteps fading away. He pulled the scarf out from the blankets around him, wrapping it around his head and over his eyes. It was too bright. It hurt.

He pulled a bucket out from under his bed, spewing into it, flowers and food alike. His body shivered violently as he strained to get it all out. Tears spilled from his eyes, confusion and pain. What was wrong with him?

His head hurt. His eyes hurt. His body hurt. Rand was gone, and all that was left was the flowers. He barely rose from his bed, lifting himself up to throw up in the bucket. Sometimes he just coughed, piles of flowers rising in his lap and the bed around him.

He always got up to lock the door, lock the window. Today he hurt too much to move. He held the dagger firmly, wanting to be able to strike as soon as someone came through the door. The world was foggy, passing in a blur.

He wanted Rand back. To come back and tell him everything was okay. To protect him from the Darkfriends he was sure were out there. To make him safe.

It was late. Rand would be back soon. Back to feed him and make him feel safe.

Blearily, he tucked the bucket back under the bed and shoved armfuls of flowers underneath. He stumbled around the room, collecting up every snapdragon. Finally, he collapsed back into bed, exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really weird to write. I’d just written a bunch of chapters, so I was really in the zone, but a few of the chapters after this I’d written a while back. So I had to tie up all the ends and make everything cohesive.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all happening. I'm uploading on Thursday as well, trust me you don't want to miss it.

Footsteps.

Mat could hear footsteps outside, people outside his room. The door flung open.

"Look who's here, Mat!" Rand. Rand wasn’t evil, Rand was good, Rand was safe. No, he wasn't. There was no way to tell if it was really Rand, or just some Darkfriend parading around as him.

He looked past Rand, ignoring the flowers spilt in his lap. Nynaeve, Egwene and Perrin stood in the doorway with Rand. They were here to save him! Or was it really them? It was really Rand, he could tell it was Rand, he could always tell when it was Rand. 

"How do you know they're really who they look like?" His voice was hoarse, a product of the flowers stuck in his throat, endlessly coughing to get rid of them. "How do I know you're who you look like?" He looked up at Rand. Or not-Rand. He coughed violently, holding one hand up to catch a fallen flower. The other hand clutched his dagger under his coat. His knees sat tucked up to his chin, hiding the flowers from view. "Everybody changes. How can I be sure?"

He looked up at Perrin, the eyes staring back at him full of concern. Yellow eyes. "Perrin?" He looked down, away from him. "Is that you?" Poor Perrin. "You've changed haven't you?" He laughed and the sound caught in his throat, throwing him into another coughing fit. More snapdragons. "Oh, yes, you've changed." Poor slow Perrin dropped onto the other bed, head on his hands. The Perrin he knew didn't even look like that, didn't have yellow eyes, would never give in to his teasing.

Nynaeve was suddenly beside him, a hand to his face, pushing up his scarf. He pulled away from her, hate fuelling his gaze. "You're burning, but you should not be sweating with this much fever." He didn't have a fever. She should know that. He was fine, all except his flowers, and his stupid little crush. Stupid Rand. "Rand, you and Perrin fetch some clean cloths and as much cool water as you can carry." No, she was sending away Rand. Rand had to stay. "I'll bring down your temperature first, Mat, and-“

“Pretty Nynaeve,” he cut in, hoping it would be enough to stop Rand leaving. “A wisdom isn’t supposed to think of herself as a woman, is she? Not a pretty woman. But you do, don’t you? Now.”

Her face paled and Mat smiled victoriously. “You can’t make yourself forget that you’re a pretty woman, now, and it frightens you. Everybody changes.”

He looked at Egwene. She would take Rand away, go off and marry him and never let him free again. “Pretty Egwene. Pretty as Nynaeve. And you share other things now, don’t you? Other dreams. What do you dream about now?” He chuckled, the force on his throat making him cough again.

“We are safe from the Dark One’s eyes for the time being.” Moiraine sauntered in, Aes Sedai serenity painted across her face. Her eyes swept over them, and once seeing Mat she became visibly distressed. “Get away from him!”

Nynaeve didn’t move, even though he wished she would. Moiraine ran across the room, pulling Nynaeve away from him despite her protests. The Aes Sedai watched him intently.

“All of you stay away from him. And be quiet.”

He bared his teeth and arched his back, barely keeping himself from hissing at her. Aes Sedai were evil. His father had always said so. His father was always right, wasn’t he? Always.

She loomed over him and he growled softly, the sound catching in his throat and coming out stuttered. She touched his knee and he shuddered. Evil. She would hurt him. She would hurt Rand. She couldn’t hurt Rand. He slashed at her, pulling the dagger out of his coat, aiming right for her eyes.

Lan caught his hand, stopping it before he even brought the knife down. Mat tried pulling free from the grip. He had to get rid of her. He had to kill her!

The witch spoke to him. “How did you come by this?” Her voice was hard and he flinched back, tucking his knees closer to his chest, arching his back further, other hand on the bed behind him. “I asked if Mordeth had given you anything. I asked, and I warned you, and you said he had not.”

Mat didn’t try to answer. He just growled again, pulling his lips back from his teeth as much as possible.

“He didn’t,” Rand said. Rand was always saving him. Rand was wonderful. He loved Rand. “He… Mat took it from the treasure room.”

The Aes Sedai looked away from him, staring up at his Rand. He had to save Rand from her.

“I didn’t know until after we were separated. I didn’t know.” Of course not. It wasn’t Rand’s fault, Rand was perfect. His Rand was perfect.

The witch kept talking, but Mat stopped listening, not really caring what she was saying. He kept trying to pull his hand away.

“There were Darkfriends.” Mat looked up as Rand spoke, watching his movements. “More than once, but we got away from them.” Rand had protected him. He felt his stomach squirm. “And a Fade, the night before we reached Caemlyn, but he never saw us. There are rumors of strange things in the night outside the city. It could be Trollocs.”

He stopped trying to get free. There was no use. His flowers might be seen if he moved too much. Rand couldn’t see his flowers. He coughed again, other hand coming up to block his mouth from view.

They were all talking. So much noise. Too many voices. They were all plotting against him. More talking.

Rand was amazing. How hadn’t Mat noticed before? His hair glowed gold in the sunlight, and Mat remembered how soft it was. He wanted Rand right now. He growled, not realising he was doing it, wanting Moiraine gone so he could get to Rand. Tears ran down his cheeks, but they weren’t visible behind the layer of sweat coating his face.

Rand jumped, staring at Perrin. Had Perrin hurt Rand? Had he said something hurtful? Poor slow Perrin probably wouldn’t even realise, he was too woolheaded to realise he had done something like that.

He watched the room spin around him. The whole world was falling apart, how did no one else see!?

People were moving. The door. People were leaving. Rand was leaving! He struggled away harder than before, desperate to get Rand back. He tried shouting, but his tears made his throat tight and he coughed. Coughing hard, he doubled over, flowers spilling out from his lap as the door closed.

He lunged blindly toward Moiraine, almost pulling free of Lan’s grip. The blade sliced the air beside her cheek and she pulled her face back a fraction of an inch.  
Lan pulled him back roughly, grabbing his wrists with both hands. He lunged forwards and bit, grabbing Lan’s arm with his teeth. Lan let go of one arm and stood behind him, holding his wrists again and securing him in place.

“Oh, Mat. Light help you, poor foolish boy.” Moiraine rose from the chair, holding her angreal in one hand and sitting on the bed in front of him. Her other hand reached out toward him and he leaned back, loudly growling as she came closer. Her hand rested on his forehead and he felt a wash of calm come over him. He passed out, a flower stuck at the back of his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man this chapter was a ride. I'll post the next chapter on Thursday, but you all might hate me for it. If you want to be sure you’re keeping up with the storyline of the actual Wheel of Time series, it might be good to read over that section, just because I skip a lot.  
Apologies in advance for Thursday.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.

Mat woke with a start. The room was spinning. He felt as if he had been plunged into an icy lake, and was only now being pulled free, felt as if he could finally stop shaking.

Moiraine knelt in front of him, one hand resting on his arm, other holding her angreal placidly in her lap. Lan gripped his wrists in an iron-hard grip, eyes watching him intently. He coughed, not seeing the flower that fell from his lips.

Slowly the pressure on his hands lessened, and Mat was able to pull free, now that Lan had determined he was no longer a threat. Mat sat up properly, staring at the unfamiliar room. A fog clouded his mind.

“How do you feel, Matrim?” Moiraine’s soft voice washed over him soothingly.

“Feel like the whole room is spinning. Where’s Rand? What is this place? Where’s the others? Where am I? What happened to-”

“Mat, please, let me explain.” She took her hand off his arm and Lan moved over to the door. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Mat shifted uncomfortably, straining to remember. “I think… Rand was buying red cloth. For… his sword, maybe. That isn’t very clear. I remember The Queen’s Blessing. That’s important, for some reason. We need to go there, Rand and I. Where is Rand?”

Moiraine sighed. “He’s downstairs, but please, stay here. Rand is safe. What’s the last thing you remember _clearly_?”__

_ _“I.. we.. Rand and I… we were sleeping under the stars in a wagon. I… um… we couldn’t hold hands. It was dangerous, I think. No, that isn’t clear. I thought we were going to die.” His voice went quiet and he cleared his throat, the edge of tears prickling his eyes. “We fell over each other. Rand and I. No, that’s not clear. The last clear thing? Rand was sick, I… I don’t remember.” He paused. “Whitebridge. I remember being on the boat and seeing Whitebridge.”_ _

_ _Moiraine nodded thoughtfully. “And your memory is clear until Whitebridge?”_ _

_ _“Somewhere around there, I suppose.”_ _

_ _“So you remember Shadar Logoth. And the dagger, the one you took from there. There’s not a pebble of that city that is not tainted, and nothing is safe to bring out of that place. The same evil that tainted Shadar Logoth still lives within it, and bringing something out of there releases that evil. I should have told you sooner, but I hadn’t thought it a real danger that one of you would bring something from there.”_ _

_ _Mat dropped the dagger on the bed. ”Can you get rid of the evil on the dagger? Can’t we just leave it behind?”_ _

_ _“You are bound to it now, Mat, you must keep it with you. Without the dagger, you could die. There’s nothing else I can do, not without a circle of my sisters to aid me.”_ _

_ _She looked down at him, face still clear but a sad smile in her eyes._ _

_ _“And the flowers. Do you remember anything about the flowers?”_ _

_ _Mat stared down at the garden in his lap, unaware of it until then. He looked up to Moiraine with confusion. “.. No?”_ _

_ _The Aes Sedai exchanged a glance with her Warder. “I can only assume it is Rand, considering the timeline, and without Matrim’s testimony we will never know for sure.” Lan nodded._ _

_ _“Never know what?” Mat pushed the red-and-gold pile off his lap. “What does Rand have to do with the flowers?”_ _

_ _“It’s not important for you to know. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. It is in the pattern now. What _is_ important for you to know is that a strange sickness is causing flowers to grow in your lungs. I really haven’t learnt very much about it, it’s an old sickess, many believed it to be something out of fiction. It isn’t catching, neither Rand nor the others will get sick from you. If you want to tell your friends, you can, but you can’t talk to anyone about this, except for them and myself.”___ _

_ _ _ _Mat was confused. Flowers growing in his lungs? He’d never heard of anything like this before. “But why is this happening?” he asked desperately._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“I’m not certain of the true cause of your disease. But do not worry, I will help you, and inform you of the cause as soon as the Pattern allows.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Moiraine’s words gave him little comfort. She stood, beckoning Mat. “Come downstairs. I’m sure your friends will be glad to see you.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _He followed the Aes Sedai out of the room, buttoning up his coat and tugging the scarf back over his eyes._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Tell me about Whitebridge, please, Matrim.”_ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all on Monday. No more petals for a while, I essentially have to start over. Oh boy. Writing Moiraine’s lines are fun. She kinda knows what’s going on, but can use half-lies to trick her way around it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so from pretty much where Loial starts talking is just copying from the book with a bit of Mat thoughts in there, because it just has so much plot to cover in that one section. There’s a few Cauthor moments, but nothing absolutely life changing if you miss it because I’ll be incorporating those elements into other chapters. So you can probably skip the rest of the chapter from where Loial starts talking, if you want.  
This particular chapter took ages to write, it felt so copy pasted I had to stop so often. Hopefully it’ll be less sluggish past here.  
Also, sorry for the late night upload. I didn't have it ready in time.

Mat stood nervously outside the library door. Tendrils of memory kept snaking back, an odd flash of memory here and there, a thought or a sound or a smell or a place. Some of them made him blush.

Moiraine set her hand on his shoulder, making him jump. He looked down at her and she nodded towards the door. He pushed it open.

The first face he saw was Rand’s, and he gave a hesitant smile. He looked over the group, staring open mouthed as he spotted a Trolloc – no, it was an Ogier. He shrugged and shook his head, stepping forward as Moiraine’s hand slid off his shoulder.

“I… ah… that is…” He took a deep breath, searching for words. “It… ah… seems I’ve been acting… ah… sort of oddly. I don’t remember much of it, really.” He glanced over his shoulder at Moiraine. “Everything is hazy after Whitebridge. Thom and the…” He didn’t want to think about that. “The further from Whitebridge, the hazier it gets. I don’t really remember arriving in Caemlyn at all.” He watched the Ogier, unsure if he was really there. “Not really. Moiraine Sedai says I… upstairs, I… ah…” He grinned. “You can’t hold a man to blame for what he does when he’s crazy, can you?”

“You always were crazy,” Perrin said. He sounded just like the Perrin he remembered from Emond’s field.

“No,” Nynaeve chimed in. Tears actually filled her eyes, despite her smile. “None of us blames you.”

“I hope you haven’t forgotten everything from our little adventure,” Rand said at the same time as Egwene said, “I’m so happy to see you looking well.”

“Some bits of my memory are coming back, just not all of it.” Mat swaggered over to a seat, pausing to hug Egwene, joy-fuelled tears streaking her cheeks.

“Maybe all your tricks will be over, Mat,” Perrin chuckled, “Now that you’ve had one so ugly played on yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back to my old self, I don’t remember a thing.” He laughed uproariously, then patted his coat to check for his dagger.

He didn’t notice Rand’s breath catch, nor did he notice Moiraine sit on a chair near Rand.

“Never should have let you off your mother’s apron strings.” Nynaeve sat again, shaking her head fondly.

Mat was about to reply as the Ogier stood. He bowed to Moiraine, voice booming across the small room. “I am Loial, son of Arent son of Halan, Aes Sedai. The stedding offers sanctuary to the Servants of the Light.”

“Thank you, Loial, son of Arent,” Moiraine responded, “but I would not be too free with that greeting if I were you. There are perhaps twenty Aes Sedai in Caemlyn at this moment, and every one but I of the Red Ajah.” The Ogier nodded. Twenty Aes Sedai? Light, Mat would never escape them.

“It is strange to find you here,” Moiraine continued, “Few Ogier leave the stedding in recent years.”

“The old stories caught me, Aes Sedai. The old books filled my unworthy head with pictures. I want to see the groves. And the cities we built, too. There do not seem to be many of either still standing, but if buildings are a poor substitute for trees, they are still worth seeing. The Elders think I’m odd, wanting to travel. I always have, and they always have. None of them believe there is anything worth seeing outside the stedding. Perhaps when I return and tell them what I’ve seen, they will change their minds. I hope so. In time.”

“Perhaps they will,” Moiraine said smoothly. “Now, Loial, you must forgive me for being abrupt. It is a failing of humankind, I know. My companions and I have urgent need to plan our journey. If you could excuse us?”

The Ogier looked confused.

Rand quickly jumped in. “He’s coming with us. I promised him he could.” Mat couldn’t fault Rand for his hasty promise, an Ogier on their journey was certainly interesting.

Moiraine stared at Loial, eyes searching. Finally, she spoke. “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. Lan, see that we are not taken unaware.” The Warder quickly disappeared out the door, his leaving quickly shutting the murmurs of the room.

Moiraine stood, standing in front of the fireplace. Mat looked around the room confused, catching Rand’s eye and staring with confusion as the redhead quickly turned away, a flush visibly creeping up his neck.

Mat watched Moiraine as she turned back to them. “We cannot remain long in Caemlyn, nor are we safe here in the Queen’s Blessing. The Dark One’s eyes are already in the city. They have not found what they are looking for, or they would not still be looking.”

Mat turned to stare around at everyone. They had changed so much.

“That we have to our advantage. I have set wards to keep them away, and by the time the Dark One realises there is a part of the city the rats no longer enter, we will be gone.”

Perrin sat stiffly, curly hair shadowing his face as he kept his eyes low.

“Any ward that will turn a man aside, though, would be as good as a beacon fire for the Myddraal, and there are Children of the Light in Caemlyn, also, looking for Perrin and Egwene.”

Egwene had changed, hair half braided as if she couldn’t make up her mind, messy from travel.

Rand made a noise and everyone turned to him. “I thought they were looking for Mat and me.”

“What made you think the Whitecloaks were looking for you?” Moiraine said.

“I heard one say they were looking for someone from the Two Rivers. Darkfriends, he said. What else was I supposed to think? With everything-” his voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “With everything that’s been happening, I’m lucky I can think at all.”

“It has been confusing, I know, Rand,” the Ogier said, “But you can think more clearly than that. The Children hate Aes Sedai. Elaida would not –”

“Elaida?” Moiraine cut in, leaving the Ogier open-mouthed as he was interrupted. Mat had no idea who Elaida was, likely someone important he had forgotten. “What has Elaida Sedai got to do with this?”

Rand receded slightly into the chair behind him, speaking slowly. “She wanted to throw me in prison. All I wanted was a look at Logain, but she wouldn’t believe I was in the Palace gardens with Elayne and Gawyn just by chance.”  
Elayne and Gawyn? Weren’t they the princess and prince of Caemlyn? When under the Light had Rand seen Caemlyn royalty?

“Queen Morgase let me go. She said there was no proof I meant any harm and she was going to uphold the law no matter what Elaida suspected. Can you imagine me meeting a Queen? She’s beautiful, like the queens in stories. So is Elayne. And Gawyn… I uh… I mean… well you’d like Gawyn, Perrin. Perrin? Mat? Blood and ashes, I just climbed up on the wall for a look at them false Dragon. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mat grinned at the irony. “That’s what I always say.” He wasn’t always lying, not that anyone would believe him anyway. His reputation usually spoke for itself.

“A Queen,” Perrin said, eyes staring into nothing. Yellow eyes. What _had_ happened to Perrin? “You really have had adventures. All we met were Tinkers and some Whitecloaks.”

Mat had always loved stories of Tinkers. They were a funny, mischievous people, at least in the stories.

Perrin lifted a hand to the motley of bruises that covered his cheeks. Mat hadn’t noticed them until now, shadowed under his hair. “On the whole, singing with the Tinkers was more fun than the Whitecloaks.”

“The travelling people live for their songs,” Loial said, “For all songs, for that matter. For the search for them, at least. I met some Tuatha’an a few years back, and they wanted to learn the songs that we sing to trees. Actually, the trees won’t listen to very many anymore, and so not many Ogier learn the songs. I have a scrap of the Talent, so Elder Arent insisted I learn. I taught the Tuatha’an what they could learn, but the trees never listen to humans. For the Traveling People, they were only songs, and just as well received for that, since none was the song they seek. That’s what they call the leader of each band, the Seeker. They come to Stedding Shangtai, sometimes. Few humans do.”

“If you please, Loial,” Moiraine said.

“I’ve just remembered something, Aes Sedai, something I have always wanted to ask an Aes Sedai if ever I met one, since you know many things and have great libraries in Tar Valon and now I have, of course, and… may I?”

“If you make it brief.” She said calmly. Considering the previous speech, Mat doubted it would be.

“Brief. Yes. Well. Brief. There was a man who came to Stedding Shangtai a little time back. This was not unusual in itself, at the time, since a great many refugees had come to the Spine of the World fleeing what you humans call the Aiel War.” A little time back apparently meaning twenty years. Approximately. Mat looked over at Rand. The redhead didn’t notice, grinning at Loial’s speech. Something about him made Mat want to stare, though he couldn’t place what it was.

The Ogier was still talking. “He was at the point of death, though there was no wound or mark on him. The Elders thought it might be something Aes Sedai had done since as soon as he was within the stedding he quickly got well. A few months. One night he left without a word to anyone, simply sneaked away when the moon was down.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Yes. Brief. Before he left, he told a curious tale which he said he meant to carry to Tar Valon. He said the Dark One intended to blind the Eye of the World, and slay the Great Serpent, kill time itself. The Elders said he was as sound in his mind as in his body, but that was what he said. What I have wanted to ask is, can the Dark One do such a thing? Kill time itself? And the Eye of the World? Can he blind the eye of the Great Serpent? What does it mean?”  
Moiraine’s reaction was not what Mat expected. Aes Sedai were always told to be all knowing, but she seemed as puzzled as the rest of them.

“That’s what the Tinkers told us,” Perrin said. Rand turned to watch Perrin as he spoke, and Mat quickly looked away.

“Yes,” Egwene said, “the Aiel story.”

“What story?” Moiraine said slowly.

Perrin took a deep breath at the blank look she gave him, pacing himself as always. “Some Tinkers crossing the Waste – they said they could do that unharmed – found Aiel dying after a battle with Trollocs. Before the last Aiel died, she – they were all women, apparently – told Tinkers what Loial just said. The Dark One – they called him Sightblinder – intends to blind the Eye of the World. This was only three years ago, not twenty. Does it mean something?”

“Perhaps everything,” Moiraine said, face serene but mind surely racing.

“Ba-alzamon,” Perrin suddenly said.

Mat stiffened, the name bringing back memories he barely remembered living. A dream with his eyes torn from him. Rats with broken backs.  
Perrin looked at Rand and Mat, strange yellow eyes searching them. Mat had never wanted to tell Moiraine anything about that, didn’t even want to think about that.

“At the time I wondered where I’d heard that name before… the Eye of the World,” Perrin began carefully. “Now I remember. Don’t you?”

The yellow eyes watched him, now. “I don’t want to remember anything,” he said quietly.

“We have to tell her,” Perrin went on. “It’s important now. We can’t keep it secret any longer. You see it, don’t you, Rand?”

“Tell me what?” Moiraine said harshly. Mat sunk into his chair. He didn’t want to tell her anything. She watched Rand intently, the only one of the three who hadn’t spoken up.

“I’ve…” Rand looked to his friends. Perrin gave a decisive nod, and Mat nodded reluctantly. There was no point in trying to keep it from her now. “We have had… dreams.”

Mat tried not to think of it. Of all the things to forget, this is what he had to remember.

“Except maybe they weren’t dreams, exactly. Ba’alzamon was in them. He said… he said all sorts of things, but once he said the Eye of the World would never serve me.”

“He told me the same thing,” Perrin admitted.

Mat’s throat was too tight to answer, a ghostly memory of petals clenching his airways further. He sighed heavily, nodding in agreement.

“You aren’t angry with us?” Perrin asked. Mat looked up at Moiraine, expecting anger but finding a calm gaze on them.

“More with myself than you. But I did ask you to tell me if you had strange dreams. In the beginning, I asked.”

Mat wouldn’t have told her, if it was his choice. The Aes Sedai knew far too much about him already, no need to give her any more information then she already knew.

“Had I known after the first such, I might have been able to.. There has not been a Dreamwalker in Tar Valon for nearly a thousand years, but I could have tried. Now it is too late. Each time the Dark One touches you, he makes the next touching easier for him. Perhaps my presence can still shield you somewhat, but even then… Remember the stories of the Forsaken binding men to them? Strong men, men who had fought the Dark One from the start. Those stories are true, and none of the Forsaken had a tenth of the strength of their master, not Aginor or Lanfear, not Balthamel or Demandred, not eve Ishamael, the Betrayer of Hope himself.”

Mat didn’t look around. He could feel Nynaeve and Egwene staring at him, he didn’t want to acknowledge their eyes.

“What can we do?” Rand asked. “There has to be something.”

“Staying close by me will help,” Moiraine said smoothly. “Some. The protection from touching the True Source extends around me a little, remember. But you cannot always remain close to me. You can defend yourself, if you have the strength for it, but you must find the strength and will around yourself. I cannot give it to you.”

“I think I’ve already found my protection,” Perrin said. He didn’t seem happy about it, making Mat even more confused as to what he was talking about.

The Aes Sedai gave a resigned reply. “Yes, I suppose you have.” She paused, probably for dramatic effect, then turned to face the other two boys. “There are limits to the Dark One’s power inside you. Yield even for an instant and he will have a string tied to your heart, a string you may never be able to cut.”

Sluggishly, the vague memory of a dream came to him, claw-like fingers stretching towards his face. He rubbed his eyes.

“Surrender, and you will be his,” she continued, “Deny him and his power fails. It is not easy when he touches your dreams, but it can be done. He can still send Halfmen against you, and Trollocs, and Draghkar, and other things, but he cannot make you his unless you let him.”

_I belong to no one. _

“Trollocs are bad enough,” Perrin said.

“I don’t want him in my head again,” Mat growled. He’d do almost anything to keep him out, even take Moiraine’s help. “Isn’t there any way to keep him out?”

The Aes Sedai shook her head. “Loial has nothing to fear, nor Egwene, nor Nynaeve. Out of the mass of humanity, the Dark One can touch an individual only by chance, unless that person seeks it. But for a time, at least, you three are central to the pattern. A Web of Destiny is being woven, and every thread leads straight to you. What else did the Dark One say to you?”

“I don’t remember it all that well,” Perrin muttered. “There was something about one of us being chosen, something like that. I remember him laughing about who we were chosen by. He said I – we could serve him or die. And then we’d still serve him.”

“He said the Amyrlin Seat would try and use us!” Mat said sharply. Then he remembered it was Moiraine he was talking to, and his voice slowly dwindled as he went on. “He said just like Tar Valon used… he had some names. Davian, I think. I can’t remember very well either.”

“Raolin Darksbane,” Perrin added.

“Yes. Yurian Stonebow was another,” Rand added regretfully. “and Guaire Amalasan.” Rand looked just as pained as Mat felt, but somehow seeing it on his face hurt more than the memory of his own dreams. “I don’t recognise any of them.”

Moiraine was watching Rand, and the pain on the other boys’ face made Mat want to break the Aes Sedai’s eyes away.

“Do you know them?” Rand said quietly. “Do they mean anything?”

“The Father of Lies is a good name for the Dark One,” Moiraine replied. Mat blinked at her, she hadn’t even answered the question! “It was always his way to seed the worm of doubt wherever he could. It eats at men’s minds like a canker. When you believe the Father of Lies, it is the first step towards surrender. Remember, if you surrender to the Dark One, he will make you his.”

The silence stretched long after her words. It was only broken by sniffling, and Mat looked over to see Egwene crying softly, Nynaeve’s arms wrapped around her shoulder comfortingly. Why was she crying? She wasn’t in danger.

He looked over at Rand for clarity, but stopped short as he saw the soft pain across his face.

Of course. She was scared for Rand. A feeling bubbled up in his stomach and he felt sick around the taste. He looked away, cheeks burning as Egwene cried. He didn’t understand why he felt like that. But it was probably easier to ignore it, right?

“They are all ta’varen,” the Ogier said suddenly. Mat kept his eyes down, trying to ignore the urge to be sick.

“So they are,” Moiraine agreed. “_Three_ of them, when I expected one. A great many things have happened that I did not expect. This news is concerning for the Eye of the World changes much.”

Mat looked up at her as she paused. “For a time the Pattern does seem to be swirling around all three of you,” she continued. “just as Loial says, and the swirl will grow greater before it becomes less. Sometimes being ta’varen means the pattern is forced to bend to you, and sometimes it means the pattern forces you to the needed path. The web can still be woven many ways, and some of those designs can be disastrous. For you, for the world.

“We can not remain in Caemlyn, but by any road, Myrddraal and Trollocs will be on us before we have gone ten miles. And just at this point we hear of a threat to the Eye of the World, not from one source, but three, each seeming independent of the others. The pattern is forcing our path. The Pattern still weaves itself around you three, but what hand now sets the warp, and what hand controls the shuttle? Has the Dark One’s prison weakened enough for him to exert that much control?”

“There is no need for that kind of talk!” Nynaeve cut in. “You’ll only frighten them!”

“But not you?” Moiraine said as plainly as ever. Nynaeve certainly looked scared. “It frightens me,” Moiraine admitted. “Well, perhaps you are right. Fear cannot be allowed to affect our course. Whether this is a trap or a timely warning, we must do what we must, and that is to reach the Eye of the World quickly. The Green Man must know of this threat.”

Mat stared at Moiraine, then looked around at the others. _The Green Man?_. They all looked as confused as he was.

“I cannot even risk stopping in Tar Valon for help,” she went on, oblivious to their confusion. “Time traps us. Even if we could rise out of the city unhindered, it would take many weeks to reach the Blight, and I fear we no longer have weeks.”

“The Blight?” Mat asked incredulously, surprised to fear the others echoing his words.

“The pattern presents a crisis,” Moiraine continued. “and at the same time a way to surmount it. If I did not know it was impossible, I could almost believe the Creator is taking a hand. There is a way.” She smiled, although the joke was completely lost on Mat. “There was an Ogier grove here at Caemlyn, and a Waygate,” she said, turning to Loial. “The New City now spreads out over where the grove once stood, so the Waygate must be inside the walls. I know not many Ogier learn the Ways now, but one who has a Talent and learns the old Songs of Growing must be drawn to such knowledge, even if he believes it will never be used. Do you know the Ways, Loial?”

The Ogier shifted at her words. “I do, Aes Sedai, but -”

“Can you find the path to Fal Dara along the Ways?”

“I’ve never heard of Fal Dara,” he said, sounding relieved.

“In the days of the Trolloc Wars it was known as Mafal Dadaranell. Do you know _that_ name?”

“I know it, but -”

“Then you can find the path for us.” Moiraine said, ignoring Loial to turn back to her musings. “A curious turn indeed. When we can neither stay nor leave by any ordinary means, I learn of a threat to the Eye, and in the same place there is one who can take us there in days. Whether it is the Creator, or fate, or even the Dark One, the Pattern has chosen our path for us.”

“No!” The Ogier shouted. Mat jumped in fear and stared at Loial, hand half raised to his coat. “If we enter the Ways, we will all die – or be swallowed by the Shadow.”  
Moiraine didn’t seem bothered by what Loial said.

The silence stretched out between the group, no one wanted to speak. Mat looked around to faces just as fearful as his. Egwene had stopped crying, but Nynaeve still clung to her, maybe to comfort her own fears. Stupid Egwene.

“Why?” Rand said finally. “Why would we die? What _are_ the Ways?”

**[yeah hi, I don’t usually do author’s comments in the middle of my storyline but I’ve been writing this chapter for literally weeks, I refuse to copy that section down. If you want that bit of information from Loial, it’s the very start of Chapter 43. My writing resumes at Nynaeve’s outburst on page 649 of my book.  
To summarise: Loial explains the male Aes Sedai built Waygates to thank the Ogier for their protection from the taint just after the Breaking, plus a little more explanation about the Waygates.]**

Only the cat purring beside Moiraine’s chair made a noise in the stillness following Loial’s words. Did the benefits of fast traveling really outweigh all those dangers?

Suddenly Nynaeve spoke, braid in hand as she yelled. “And you expect us to follow you into that? You must be mad!”

“Which would you choose instead?” Moiraine said, a strange quiet and calm over her words. “The Whitecloaks within Caemlyn, or the Trollocs without? Remember that my presence in itself gives some protection from the Dark One’s works.”

Nynaeve sat back down with an exasperated sigh.

“You still have not explained to me why I should break the edict of the Elders,” Loial said. “And I have no desire to enter the Ways. Muddy as they often are, the roads men make have served me well enough since I left Stedding Shangtai.”

Mat was inclined to agree with Loial. Why couldn’t they just leave them alone? Ta’varen or not, there wasn’t much interesting about three farmboys.

“Humankind and Ogier, everything that lives,” Moiraine replied, “we are at war with the Dark One. The greater part of the world does not even know it yet, and most of the few who do fight skirmishes and believe they are battles. While the world refuses to believe, the Dark One may be at the brink of victory. There is enough power in the Eye of the World to undo his prison. If the Dark One has found some way to bend the Eye of the World to his use…” Moiraine trailed off mysteriously.

Mat had never been more scared in his life. What under the Light was important about them? “What can we do?” he shouted, frustrated. “Why are we so important? Why do we have to go to the Blight? The Blight!” The least she could do was explain why they were travelling to their deaths!

Moiraine didn’t shout back at him, just projected her voice to fill the space, booming off the wide bookcases. “One thing we can do. We can try. What seems like chance is often the Pattern. Three threads have come together here, each giving a warning: the Eye. It cannot be chance; it is the Pattern. You three did not choose; you were chosen by the Pattern. And you are here, where the danger is known. You can step aside, and perhaps doom the world. Running, hiding, will not save you from the weaving of the Pattern. Or you can try. You can go to the Eye of the World, three ta’varen, three centerpoints of the Web, placed where danger lies. Let the Pattern be woven around you there, and you may save the world from the Shadow. The choice is yours. I cannot make you go.”

“I’ll go,” Rand said quickly.

Mat didn’t want to go. He’d never longed for his boring farm life back so badly. He had never liked responsibility, never liked his chores at home, never liked having to be responsible for anything. He’d rather go run and hide in the woods, or up in the loft of the barn like back at home. Somehow, though, he felt responsible for Rand. Or at least as though he would follow him off the edge of a mountain should it come to it.

“I’ll go as well,” Perrin said carefully.

Mat sighed. “Blood and ashes, me too.”

“I suppose there isn’t any choice for Egwene or me, either,” Nynaeve said.

Moiraine nodded knowingly. “You are part of the Pattern, too, both of you, in some fashion. Perhaps not ta’varen – perhaps – but strong even so. I have known it since Baerlon. And no doubt by this time the Fades know it, too. And Ba’alzamon. Yet you have as much choice as the young men. You could remain here, proceed to Tar Valon once the rest of us have gone.”

“Stay behind!” Egwene exclaimed. “Let the rest of you go off into danger while we hide under the covers? I won’t do it!” Mat looked away, he couldn’t bear the idea of them following just because of pride or something Light-blinded like that. “I won’t do it,” she said stubbornly.

“I suppose that means both of us will accompany you,” Nynaeve grumbled. “You still need my herbs, Aes Sedai, unless you’ve suddenly gained some ability I don’t know about.” Mat had no idea what this was about, but he was certainly too scared of both women to ask.

“Well,” Moiraine asked, “Loial, son of Arent son of Halan?”

Loial stuttered at her words, gaping before he finally spoke again. “Yes, well. The Green Man. The Eye of the World. They’re mentioned in books, of course, but I don’t think any Ogier has actually seen them in, oh, quite a long time. I suppose… But must it be the Ways?” Moiraine nodded. “Very well, then. I suppose I must guide to you Elder Haman would say it’s no less than I deserve for being so hasty all the time.”

“Our choices are made then,” Moiraine said. “And now that they are made, we must decide what to do about them, and how.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do find it annoying writing out all the other dialogue and bits of story to make it cohesive. It just feels a bit plagiarised. I’m trying to add little moments to break it up here and there, but it gets difficult with so many characters. Don’t worry, once they get out of Caemlyn I have plans to take make it a little more shippy.  
Mat is just seeing everyone again, so he’s seen how much everyone has changed. Rand is changing too, haha, more than in canon. Mat just doesn’t know it yet. Feel free to comment if any of you guess what it is.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg it’s been ages. Hey again everyone. I hope y’all aren’t too disappointed in me. For now it’s a sporadic update. I don’t really have any plans, I’ll try to post the next upload date in each chapter but no guarantee. Lol life got hectic.

Their planning for traversing the Ways took most of the night, Lan joining them as dark fell.

Mat was sure the planning had gone well, although he had spent most of the time barely awake. Maybe the recovery from his memory-loss and flower disease had taken a toll on him.

Nynaeve had procured a list of supplies for their travels, working rather well with the Aes Sedai she normally despised. A lot had changed since he had seen them all last.

Rand seemed to be trying to walk a hole in the floor, constantly pacing across the room, only coughing interrupting his steady rhythm. Mat kept catching the redhead looking at him, and the weird feeling in his stomach left him feeling sick again. Oh Light, they’d probably gotten sick during the time Mat had forgotten. Again.

Again? A solid memory brought itself forward from the depths of his mind. Himself, hunched over as he coughed bloody petals into the grass. Opening the stable doors back inside to take care of Rand as he complained incessantly for water.

He shook his head and turned his mind back to the planning, hands clenched together to keep them from the dagger in his coat.

The feeling whelmed back up in his stomach again, and he made an excuse to leave, promising he would be back soon.

He blankly trundled out the back of the kitchen, running toward the grassy field out back as his stomach heaved. He bent over beside the stable, throwing up spit and blood lingering in his sore throat. He almost didn’t see the petal falling out of his mouth at the last second. A single petal, red with a singular gold stripe.  
He trudged back sullenly, muttering quiet apologies as he sat back at the table. He caught eyes with Rand, the taller boy staring back at him with blushing cheeks and scared grey eyes. It was Rand who broke eye contact, looking away to cough into his fist, then continuing to pace.

Sometime during their planning, Rand drew Egwene away from the others and spoke to her. Mat tried not to look like he was watching them, but the strange yellow eyed stare that Perrin gave him made him sure Perrin had seen. Only her angry stalking back to the table lessoned his stomach’s bubbling.

Finally they could all leave, his own tired eyes barely open as he struggled to stay awake. Only the promise of a warm bath and bed kept him from falling asleep on one of the couches.

The three boys followed Lan to one of the bath rooms, and even the Warder seemed worn out today. Or at least, slightly less alert than usual.

Mat undressed quickly in the room, the heat simmering from the tubs a good incentive. He tucked the dagger in his pile of clothes, turning around toward the tubs. He caught Rand staring towards him and the other boy turned bright red, face and neck nearly matching his hair.

Mat shrugged off the reaction and climbed into his bath, Perrin having already sunk into his own.

He really didn’t mean to stare, but he watched out of the corner of his eye as Rand undressed, other boy turned away from them. His back was rippled with defined muscle, and Mat had to drag his eyes from going any further down, focusing on washing himself. Light, that was strange, when had he ever wanted to look…? It didn’t matter, all that mattered was that he was nearly falling asleep in the tub, body folded up so he could submerge nearly all of himself at once.

***

He felt himself being shaken awake, and looked up sleepily to see a mostly dressed Rand lightly shaking his shoulders. Embarrassed, he looked away and got out of the lukewarm water. He was surprised he hadn’t drowned, slipping under the water. He slowly got dressed, feeling bad when he realised Rand was waiting for him to head up to their room. He mumbled an apology as they walked together.

Back in their room under the eaves, Mat watched as Rand stared out of the window, head craned up to stare at the stars obscured by clouds. He climbed into his own bed, mostly undressed, tucking the dagger under his pillow.

Rand blew out the candle, and suddenly being alone in the darkness scared Mat. It was childish, he knew, but the irrational fear of there being something in the darkness was getting to him. He grabbed his dagger from under the pillow, ignoring the crunching of wilted flowers.

He stumbled forwards in the blackness, shins connecting with Rand’s bed as he tripped.

“Rand?” Mat said quietly.

“Rand?” he said again.

“Yes, Mat?” Rand’s sleepy voice answered.

“Can I, uh…” Suddenly his idea seemed stupid. He could handle a little bit of darkness, right? Where had this sudden fear of sleeping alone come from?

“Mat?” Noises shifted in the darkness, likely Rand sitting up.

“Can I… sleep in your bed? I- it’s just- I don’t… I don’t think I’m used to sleeping… on my own?” he murmured, picking at the hem of his undershirt.

“Yeah, sure.”

Mat felt out the darkness in front of him finding the fabric of the bed, sitting awkwardly on the edge of it. Rand held the blanket out for him and Mat flinched at the contact. He put the dagger under his edge of the pillow, sliding under the covers. He was glad the room was dark, his face was probably burning up bright red.

Rand threw the blanket over him, leaving his arm over Mat as he held onto the edge of the blanket. Mat’s brain dimly registered himself moving closer to Rand, letting the taller boy cuddle up against him as they slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was honestly so tired when I wrote this chapter, I guess reread me decided it was good work if it’s still the chapter I’m posting. Honestly I can’t get enough of my bois cuddling.  
Lol reread me here. Yeah this reread is after hiatus. I didn’t change much, still really love this chapter :)


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly it was this chapter that caused hiatus. The dream sequences take a lot out of me because there’s so much to improvise.
> 
> Anyway, as promised, two chapters uploaded :)  
I'm glad to be back and writing, I've gotten back into the fandom and I just love them so much. I can't wait for the show.

Mat never normally knew when he was dreaming. But in every one of these Light cursed dreams he was able to tell. The splintered wooden door in front of him felt too real with the steady drip of water echoing in the hallway. The air felt moist and cold, tinged with the stale smell of death. Was it normal to smell things in dreams?

He took a hesitant step away from the door, but a strange force pulled him back. Mat pushed the door open slowly, peering into the room in front of him. In the centre of the room sat a round table, with three small figures perched atop it. His gaze was distracted by the large arch windows, the rolling clouds beyond them seeming ominous behind a railing-free balcony. Something about this place was just… wrong. The fire burning in the mantlepiece gave no relief to the chill of this dream. The black torches on the walls burned too brightly for a natural flame.

Mat cautiously approached the polished table, studying the figures sat in front of him. One was a nearly indistinguishable mould of clay, an intricately carved wolf beside him. Another held a sword, the only fine carving across its’ hilt. But the one that drew his eye held a dagger, red hilt glinting as ominously as his own dagger that lay beneath Rand’s pillow.

He picked up the little figure, holding it close to his face to better examine the life-like features on the small face. Mat could feel a tightening around his own body, studying the figure as he realised it held his own face. Hands felt wrapped around him, fingers shifting as his shifted on the clay in his palms.

“So that’s who you are.”

Mat spun wildly, dagger pointed at the voice, to see Ba’alzamon stood by the windows. The room felt darker, as if the flames in his eyes and mouth had stolen fire from the burning in the hearth.

Ba’alzamon smirked as Mat glared at him. “Too long, but-”

Mat cut him off. “I deny you! You hold no power over me,” his voice was far weaker than he wanted it to be. “I deny you!”

Ba’alzamon laughed, flames in his face rising with his voice. “You think it’s that easy? As if every time before you haven’t denied me, as if each time before you haven’t stood and said those same words.”

Mat’s mouth hung agape, fear crawling through his veins as he froze. “I-I deny you!” he whimpered.

“The same words spoken every time! The beginning never changes. Your face, your name, they’ve all been changing while we waged this eternal war. But your petty denial never does.”

“I deny you,” he whispered helplessly, willing his knees to stop shaking and hold strong beneath him. How could he deny someone so all-powerful?

“Every time your puny strength is thrown against me, and every time you learn which of us is the master. You will kneel before me like you always have. Or you will die wishing you had. You’ve never won against me, and you never will.”

“Liar! I deny you!” Strength felt returned to his bones as he lunged with the dagger, blade skimming the air where Ba’alzamon had stood. ”I deny you, and I will forever! I’ll never _kneel_ before you.”

Ba’alzamon glided across the room, pearls of laughter stealing flames from the torches that burned in his eyes instead. “You know nothing about forever. As ignorant as a beetle under a rock, and as easily crushed. Our war has been fought since the moment of creation, no matter how many men think their battles are new. Only now change blows on the winds of time. Change. This time there will be no drifting back. Even the proud Aes Sedai who want to use you, I will dress them in chains and send them running to do my bidding, stuff their souls into the Pit of Doom, screaming for eternity. I will do that to everyone, everyone but those who already serve me. They will stand but a step beneath me. You could stand with them, have the world grovelling at your feet. I offer one more time, one last time. You could stand above them, have every power and dominion above everyone but myself. There has been times when you have made that right choice, living long enough to know your power.”

“I would never submit to you! I deny your power over me, I belong to no one but myself.” Mat could feel his anger and confidence build with each word.

“Two thousand years ago I took my Trollocs across the world, found powerful men and women willing to embrace their full power. Your words can not hold you more powerful than history’s greatest rulers. Even Aes Sedai who submit to my power gain great reward. Those of the Black Ajah, dwelling among the shadows. Perhaps even those who claim to help you.”

“I deny you! You only speak lies, Father of Lies!” Mat shouted.

“Why deny the words you so badly want to hear? Kneel before me, acknowledge me as your master! In the end you will be my creature, or you will die.”

Mat could feel his limbs cracking as his body was forced to kneeling position at the feet of Ba’alzamon, straining to resist, eyes closed in struggle and pain.

Mat jerked to consciousness, the feeling of Rand’s hand on his arm grounding him within the darkness. He stared around the darkness, trying to see through it, until the memories of where he was surfaced. He dug under the pillow and held the dagger to his chest. Rand’s arms curled around his middle, and he didn’t even realise he was crying until Rand wiped the tears from his face.

“He’s back, Rand.”

“I know.” Rand’s voice was barely a whisper as he replied.

“There were these three figures…”

Rand hugged Mat tightly, bringing him to lean into his chest.

“I saw them too.” His breathing stuttered as he spoke.

“He knows who I am, Rand.” He wound his arms around Rand’s middle and butted his head against his chest. “I picked up the one with the dagger, and he said ‘So that’s who you are.’ And when I looked again, the figure had my face. My face, Rand!”

He looked up at Rand, eyes barely visible in the darkness. “It looked like flesh. It felt like flesh.” He turned away to cough into his fist. “Light help me -” his throat tightened familiarly “- I could feel my own hand gripping me, like I was the figure.”

Rand gently grabbed his face and locked his gaze. “You have to keep denying him Mat.”

“I did, and he laughed.” His voice was quiet as he stared at Rand, face burning where Rand’s hand still held him. “He kept talking about some eternal war, and saying we’d met like that a thousand times before, and… Light, Rand, the Dark One knows me!”

“He said the same thing to me. I don’t think he does.” Mat could feel himself being pulled in slowly by Rand’s hands still cupping his face. “I don’t think he knows which of us…”

Rand suddenly turned away, coughing softly into his hands. Mat retracted his hands from around Rand, moving to sit on the pillow.

Rand shifted and swore, lifting his hands up to examine them. He got out of the bed, lighting the candle. Abruptly he scrubbed at his hands.

Mat peered over curiously, sniffling and wiping tears from his cheeks. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Rand went over to their basin and filled it with water, splashing his face and hands.

Mat felt as if there was a layer of grime covering him, grime from that dream. “Light, he made me feel dirty, too.”

“Yes. Dirty.”

A knock came from the door and Mat dived for his own bed, shivering as he left Rand’s warm blankets, dagger forgotten under the pillow.

The door knocked again and Mat sat staring at it, dagger clutched to his chest.

“Yes?” Rand said, and Moiraine put her head in the room. “You’re awake already. Good. Dress quickly and come down. We must be away before first light.”

“Now?” Mat groaned. “We haven’t had an hour’s sleep yet.” He wanted to climb back into Rand’s bed and feel warm again.

“An hour?” Moiraine said stiffly. “You have had four. Now hurry, we do not have much time.”

Mat shared a confused look with Rand. Dreams were usually weird, but surely it hadn’t been four hours? It had barely been minutes.

“What has happened?” Moiraine said suddenly, reading something from their shared glance. “The dreams?”

Mat pulled his knees up to his chest, speaking hoarsely. “He knows who I am. The Dark One knows my face.”  
Rand held up his hand to Moiraine. Mat felt his breathing stutter as he saw the blood smeared on Rand’s palm. Was that from Mat’s own dagger? Had he hurt him?

The Aes Sedai quickly crossed the room, grabbing Rand’s hand. His friend went still, then quickly withdrew his hand and wiped away the blood.

“Hurry,” she whispered, “Time grows very short.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so glad I got this scene done.
> 
> I'll probably post the next one two weeks from now, ish  
I don't have many written in advance and I want to take my time getting them completed. I'll see you all next time, please feel free to leave comments, I appreciate them so much :)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno if I’ve mentioned this before, but I usually write these before and after notes as im writing the chapter. The first half of his was written before my hiatus break, but boy am I glad to be back and writing. I’ve really gotten the inspiration back.
> 
> ^lol I was so clueless… that was written at the start of my break… I’m mostly just going back and editing some of these chapters for upload. However, I’m really happy to be back, honestly :D
> 
> Light, I hope the italicised formatting is working.

Moiraine closed the door behind herself to give them privacy to dress. Mat leapt out of his bed, grabbing fresh clothes and shoving the rest of his belongings into the pack.

“Was-” Mat began. His voice caught and he cleared his throat. “Was that from the dream?”

Rand nodded hesitantly. “A splinter from the door. How can a dream do that?”

“It’s the Dark One, who knows what he can do.” Mat’s words were muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Mat?” Rand stood beside his own bed, hand running through his hair, not quite looking Mat in the eye.

“Yeah?”

“Did you forget everything from while we were on our own?” Rand’s voice cracked, and he turned away as he spoke.

Why was Rand so upset? What had Mat forgotten that was so important?

“I… uh… most of it, yeah.”

Rand didn’t speak, coughing into the cold night air. Mat watched in confusion as Rand silently shoved the rest of his belongings into his pack.

Mat pulled his pack onto his back and grabbed the dagger from beneath Rand’s pillow.

Moiraine knocked again and ushered them out of the room, stepping in briefly to check they had left nothing behind.

_Nothing except the petals._

“Quickly, now.” She walked ahead of them to the stairs.

Mat followed Rand closely, one hand in his coat, other swinging beside him. Darkness never put him on edge, but tonight it was too dark for him.

He nearly tripped over Rand, stepping so close behind him. Their fingers brushed and Mat, on instinct, reached out to grab Rand’s hand.

_It was dangerous to hold hands, it would give them away._   
_But it was okay for now, right?_

Rand looked down in surprise at their joint hands and Mat quickly withdrew his grip. He didn’t know why, but something in his memory said he shouldn’t do it.

The others were waiting in the back hall, with Master Gill wringing his hands nervously. He led them through the kitchen, upsetting the cook and her helpers as they passed through. Finally into the yard, the closed door plunged them into darkness.

Mat stood frozen.

_”Rand,” he rose his voice to be heard over the thunder booming above them. “You won’t leave me, will you?” his voice quavered, “if I can’t keep up?”  
“I won’t leave you.” Rand squeezed his hand, and Mat felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. “I won’t leave you no matter what.” _

He hurried forward, grabbing Rand’s hand to be lead through the darkness. They kept their heads down, trying to see the ground beneath their feet.

“I don’t see why we can’t have just one light,” Loial grumbled. “We don’t go running about in the dark in the stedding. I’m an Ogier, not a cat.”

Mat giggled as he tried to imagine the huge Ogier doing any of the graceful agile things that cats would do. Leaping over a fence, chasing rats, sitting in someone’s lap!

The group stopped, and Mat looked up at the vague outline of the stable. The innkeeper ushered them inside quickly, light spilling from the door barely held ajar. Inside, horses for each of them stood saddled, a packhorse loaded with supplies. He dropped Rand’s hand as Moiraine and Lan made for their horses, finding himself a dun-coloured horse.

As he loaded his bags behind the saddle, he noticed Perrin looking around warily, eyes cast down as he looked around strangely.

Mat led his horse over to Rand, standing by a timid red bay. “Perrin’s making me nervous,” he admitted. He shrunk under the look Rand gave him. “Well, he’s acting strange. Don’t you see it too?” He wasn’t being paranoid was he? He was genuinely concerned about Perrin. “I swear it’s not my imagination, or… or…” Or the dagger.

Rand nodded and Mat breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going crazy. “He is, Mat, but just be easy. Moiraine knows about… whatever it is. Perrin’s fine.”

“Of course, I never said he wasn’t,” he said quickly. He still watched Perrin though, unsure how to think about him acting like that.

Rand coughed behind Mat as the innkeeper stepped forward to talk softly to them. “Ramey says the way is clear, Aes Sedai.”

The stablemen approached one of the walls, appearing solid and lined with tools. Mat gaped as they opened it, the well concealed hinges previously invisible in the wall.

“It’s only a narrow run between buildings,” Master Gill apologised. “but nobody outside this stable knows there’s a way into it from here. Whitecloaks or white cockades, there’ll not be any watchers to see where you come out.”

The Aes Sedai nodded. “Remember, good innkeeper, if you fear any trouble from this, write to Sheriam Sedai, of the Blue Ajah, in Tar Valon, and she will help. I fear my sisters and I have a good deal to put right already for those who have helped me.”

Master Gill laughed. “Why, Aes Sedai, you’ve already given me the only inn in all of Caemlyn without any rats. What more could I ask for? I can double my custom on that alone.”

The innkeeper paused, laughing face turning serious. “Whatever you’re up to, the Queen holds with Tar Valon, and I hold with the Queen, so I wish you well. The Light illuminate you, Aes Sedai. The Light illuminate you all.”

Moiraine gave a quick bow of her head to the innkeeper. “The Light illuminate you, also Master Gill.” Moiraine turned to the rest of the group, speaking urgently. “But if the Light is to shine on the rest of us, we must be quick.” She gestured to the Ogier. “Are you ready?”

Loial nervously took his horse to the opening in the wall. “This way.” He lead his horse down the narrow alley, the rest of them following close behind, or as close as they could with horses squished behind them.

Moiraine led Aldieb after Loial’s massive horse, then Rand with Mat still walking as close as he could to Rand. Rand was… safe, for some reason. Mat hoped he wasn’t bothering him, constantly hanging this close, especially with the dagger tucked in his coat pocket.

Nynaeve followed him, holding the reins on her own horse and the packhorse, with Egwene behind her and Perrin at the back. Lastly came Lan, leading Mandarb, both Warder and horse blending into the darkness that engulfed the narrow alleyway.

The clop of the horses hooves against the ground stood out against the silence, baskets and panniers scraping the walls of the alley. The lanterns on poles lashed to the horse clinked together loudly. Mat was glad they had lanterns, Loial had said the Ways were darker than the darkest night, and Mat’s sudden fear of the dark was surely going to affect him in there.

Loial led them through the twisting streets, his strange ability to find a Waygate guiding them. Rand looked behind them at the Queen’s Blessing. Mat didn’t want to look back, he didn’t want to know if the Whitecloaks were somehow about to find them.

The Waygate seemed to be very far from the inn, as the sky was getting lighter and people were moving about, preparing for the day. Mat relaxed as the light gave him more visibility.

With the amount of people out, their little procession was drawing some glances. Or rather, Loial was. Mat saw multiple people run off in terror. Some looked ready to defend themselves, like they would attack them if they so much as looked strangely at them. Mat pressed closer to Rand, nearly tripping him over.

Rand righted himself against a wall and Mat murmured an apology. Rand gave him an oddly fond smile, then reached out to take Mat’s free hand. An odd feeling rose in his stomach as Rand led him into another alley –

_A cart clattering away.  
Something clouded his mind. An alleyway.  
Rand grabbed Mat’s collar, jerked the smaller boy out of his self-pity, Mat pulled up to his tip-toes to match the height he was pulled to. Rand leaned down, faces so close their noses almost touched. Mat looked up with worry, hands reached up to pull Rand off him. At any other situation, he would’ve had a witty reply, a way to brush off Rand’s reaction. Instead he stared, eyes tracing Rand’s lips up to his clouded eyes. _

Mat blinked and shook his head. He barely remembered the memory even as it passed. Blood and ashes, what had happened?

The memory faded further as they walked on, Mat desperately trying to remember the details. Maybe he could ask Rand later?

A few streets later, the group finally stopped. Rand awkwardly took his hand back, look over his shoulder at Mat apologetically.

“There,” Loial announced. “It under is there.” Mat’s eyes followed the direction the Ogier pointed. A shop, still closed for the night, stood over the supposed location of the Waygate.

“Under?” He asked incredulously. “How in the Light can we-?”

Moiraine held up a hand to cut him off. She gestured for them to follow her into a narrow alley that ran adjacent to the shop. “There must be a cellar door,” she muttered. “Ah, yes.”

She held up her hand and Mat was shocked as a bright orb of light shone, hovering just above her palm. He wished she had used it earlier, when they were tripping over each other walking from the inn to the stable. She held it near the cellar doors she had found, investigating the thick iron lock layered with rust.

Loial bent down to pull at the lock. “I can pull it off, hasp and all, but it will make enough noise to wake the whole neighbourhood.”

“Let us not damage the goodman’s property if we can avoid it.” Moiraine studied the lock intently, then gave it a tap with her staff, the lock falling open smoothly.

Loial quickly undid the lock and swung open the large wooden doors, revealing a ramp down into the cellar. Moiraine walked confidently down, Aldieb stepping daintily behind her as her glowing ball of light lit the way.

“Light the lanterns and come down. There is plenty of room. Hurry. It will be light out soon.” Mat thought it was light out enough, considering the reactions they had been getting.

Nynaeve grumbled under her breath as she untied the lanterns from the packhorse and handed them out to the others. Even before they lit the lanterns, Mat realised he could clearly make out Rand’s features. Cool grey eyes watching him with flushed red cheeks, strong jawline and- what? Why was he thinking that way?

Rand broke their eye contact and coughed awkwardly into his fist. Nynaeve started leading her horse and the packhorse down the ramp, sniffing as she walked past the boys.

“Horses should never be put inside…” Mat grumbled absentmindedly, pulling his horse after Rand toward the ramp.

Inside, the cellar was spacious, with a high ceiling and brick supports. The place had clearly been abandoned, a thick layer of dust being kicked up and floating about in the air. Mat coughed, his sore throat throbbing as he did. Lan pulled close the doors behind them, the last of the rising daylight shut off from their vison’s.

“Blood and ashes,” he growled, pausing to cough again. “Why would they build one of those gates in a place like this?”

“It was not always like this,” Loial said, voice booming in the cavernous space. “Not always. No!” Despite his usual gentle nature, Mat couldn’t help but cower as Loial spoke louder, a clear anger in his voice. He slinked up next to Rand, who gave him a quizzical look.

“Once trees stood here.” Loial continued, “Every kind of tree that would grow in this place, every kind of tree that Ogier could coax to grow here. The Great Trees, a hundred spans high.” Mat moved to stand behind Rand, slightly leaning on him as he peered over his shoulder.

“Shade of branch, and cool breezes to catch the smell of leaf and flower and hold the memory of the peace of the stedding. All that, murdered for this!” The Ogier’s huge fist reach out to thump a column, and Mat shook with the foundations of the building. Rand took his hand and squeezed lightly, letting go as he caught Egwene’s eye across the room.

“What is already woven cannot be undone,” Moiraine said soothingly. “It will not make the trees grow again for you to bring the building down on our heads. With your help, Loial, perhaps we can keep the groves that still stand from falling under the Shadow. You have brought us to what we seek.”

The group moved towards one of the walls, and Mat kept an embarrassed distance from Rand. He studied the wall Moiraine stood in front of intently, and realised it was far more intricate than the bricks around it. Intricate vines and leaves traced in the stone, even the smallest details so delicate that it made the rest of the once-beautiful walls seem primitive and clumsy.

“Avendesora,” Moiraine said, running a hand along the vines carved into the stone to rest on a unique leaf in the pattern. “The leaf of the Tree of Life is the key.” She pulled away the stone leaf, and Mat blinked and gasped. The leaf had come away easily.

Moiraine replaced the leaf a handspan lower, and it fit as if it had been carved there. Mat ignored the way the leaves shook as if blown by a breeze, sure that it was just a side-effect of his dagger. Some kind of nausea, a shakiness in his vision? Slowly, seamless stone walls pulled out from the stony foliage, the surface behind them a murky surface dully reflected their own image back at them.

“I have heard,” Loial said with an odd inflection in his voice, “that once the Waygates shone like mirrors. Once, who entered the Ways walked through sun and sky. Once.”

“We have no time for waiting,” Moiraine said curtly.

Lan walked past her, leading Mandarb toward his shadowy reflection. Mat’s mouth hung agape as the Warder walked through his reflection, through the Waygate, horse following him. The light from his lantern was swallowed with the rest of him.

“Hurry,” Moiraine urged, pulling Mat out of his stupor. “I must be the last through. We cannot leave this open for anyone to find by chance. Hurry.”

Loial sighed heavily and strode through the shimmery surface, pulling his unwilling horse behind him. Rand entered next, slowly walking through the Waygate with a look of apprehension on his face. His horse was pulled through with a jerk of the reins.

Suddenly Mat felt very alone without Rand, despite the others still in the cellar with him. He poked his lantern pole through the reflection and pulled his horse through with him. As he entered, he felt a terrible chill, and his whole body felt as if it were being pulled through slowly. Time seemed to barely tick, as he struggled to move through the gate.

Abruptly, he landed on the other side, the chill disappearing as if it had never existed. He looked around the pitch darkness, only the lanterns giving off a small pool of light around them. He ran over to Rand, and the others, pulling his horse with him. The animal nearly fell, tripping Mat up to land with his face against Rand’s chest, only his arms holding Mat from falling. He awkwardly pulled himself up, standing next to Rand to stare into the Waygate, ignoring the blush across both their cheeks.

Beyond the surface, he could see the others moving. They looked to be moving in slow motion, as if time was moving slower through there. One by one the others made their way through, each shocked then hurrying to join the group. Their pool of light became bigger, but the light didn’t seem to touch the darkness as it usually would, as if the darkness was leeching light from their torches.

Moiraine moved unintentionally slow as she felt along the vines to put the leaf back in it’s original position. The gates began to close slowly, and she calmly led Aldieb through it, both horse and Aes Sedai seeming unaffected by the strangeness of the Ways. The last of the light from the cellar was cut, and suddenly they were stuck in this unfamiliar world.

The darkness beyond their pool of light was suffocating, as if it was trying to swallow them whole. Only Moiraine and Lan seemed unaffected by the Ways, as the others pressed closer to each other. Rand’s hand brushed his and he looked up at the taller boy. Rand was watching Egwene fondly, who had pressed up close to him with a look of fear in her eyes. Mat’s face burnt and he kept one hand on his horse’s reins and the other in his pockets.

Moiraine and Lan seemed unconcerned, swinging into their saddles. “We must be on our way, Loial.” Moiraine said calmly.

Loial started, nodding vigorously. “Yes. Yes, Aes Sedai, you are right. Not a minute longer than need be.” He pointed to the ground beneath them, at a white strip running beneath their feet. The Emond’s fielders stepped away from it, Rand nearly trampling Mat in his haste.

The white line was broken in places, but mostly ran as far as he could see along the stone walkway.

“This leads from the Waygate to the first Guiding. From there…” he faded off and hurriedly mounted his horse, muttering something Mat couldn’t hear. Mat quickly climbed on his own horse, as reluctant as the others to start their journey through the Ways.

Loial led the way, with Lan and Moiraine following close behind them, and Perrin leading the packhorse behind them. Nynaeve and Mat pressed their horses close to the group, with Rand and Egwene close behind them. Mat ignored how lonely he felt without Rand beside him. Light, what was wrong with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this was written before I was officially diagnosed with anxiety and I can see it seeping through Mat’s thoughts. It fits the dagger, though, making him unsure and suspicious.
> 
> I don't know when the next chapter will be posted. I'll get my break in a couple of weeks, hopefully I'll get a consistent upload schedule then. If you guys have any thoughts for where you want this to head, want this to end, or even any other parts of the books you want me Make It Gay(tm), please comment :D


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hanahaki hits a lot different during Covid, doesn’t it? All this coughing? Someone’s got ‘rona.
> 
> I've written a couple thousand words over the past few days, and I was excited to upload again :)  
so here we are, another chapter :D

The Ways were scarily quiet. It was as if the darkness was intent on swallowing them up, as if it was going to wash over their torches and throw them into the void of darkness. Mat shivered, he didn’t like thinking about it.

The creak of saddles and the clicking of horseshoes on the stone beneath their feet seemed to only reach through their bubble of light. He could hear even the most subtle shifting of the packhorse’s cargo, could hear Nynaeve breathing beside him. Could hear every time Rand coughed, every time Egwene would whisper comfort to him. Mat felt sick.

Nothing changed around them, as if the Ways _had_ swallowed them up. The darkness still looked the same, the broken white line and cracked stone beneath them barely changing. Until, finally, they reached a small island of stone, where the white line cut off abruptly. The small, crumbling pillars at the edges were wound with metal in vined shapes similar to the Waygate. At least it was something different. It wasn’t much more appealing than the rest of the Ways had been. But it was different.

“The Guiding,” Loial said, the first word any of them had spoken since they started following the white line, except for Moiraine and Lan of course. _And Egwene with Rand_.

“Ogier script,” Moiraine said, “but so broken I can barely make out what it says.”

“I hardly can either,” Loial said, “but enough to know we go this way.” He turned his horse down one of the many paths leading out from the Guiding.

Perrin handed the reins of the packhorse to Egwene with a gentle smile, letting her take his place behind Moiraine and Lan. Rand watched Egwene for a moment, then let his horse back to ride beside Mat. Mat looked away from him, coughing into his fist, a strange anger pooling in his stomach.

Rand’s hand brushed his again and Mat turned to look at Rand. The other boy smiled apologetically and held out his hand.

_“Two young men, one with a sword, always looking over their shoulders.” He chuckled and added, “Holding hands, like light burned pillow-friends. If they’re the right ones, my… my friend will pick them up once they’re located.”_

Mat shakily took his hand and urged their horses closer together, hands swinging clasped between them. Rand absently rubbed his thumb over Mat’s hand, sending pleasant shivers up Mat’s arm.

He watched Rand as he started into the darkness, red hair swaying with the pace of his horse. Rand turned back and Mat quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring.

He felt Rand’s hand leave his own and turned back, ready with an apology, to see Rand hunched over, coughing in the saddle. The redhead stopped his horse and nearly fell out of the saddle, bending over the white stone balustrade. Mat stopped and watched helplessly as Rand coughed violently, something falling from his lips into the darkness. Something green and red.

The others had stopped too, and Moiraine was quickly walking over to Rand. Rand turned back around, smiling weakly at Mat as Moiraine walked up.

“What was it, Rand?” Moiraine said softly.

“What was… I mean…” He paused, stuttering. “It was nothing.” His eyes flicked over to Mat as he spoke.

Moiraine turned to the others, nodding to Lan. “We will catch up.”

Lan turned his horse and began forward again. Loial and the Emonds fielders walked with him, except for Mat who sat forlornly, watching Rand.

“You too, Matrim,” Moiraine said sternly.

Mat gave Rand one final, longing look, and sped up his horse to walk with the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I’m not that happy with this chapter but it’s going in the right direction.  
Reread me approves, it’s a cute little segway into the next part of the storyline.
> 
> Once again, feel free to comment and all that good stuff :)


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo a Tuesday upload?  
Hey guys, sorry it's been so long. I've finally gotten a break, so I'm hoping to get a consistent upload for at least a couple of weeks, every Monday. I'll confirm it next upload :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy some of the recurring themes popping up in this chapter.

Mat kept looking back, riding slightly behind the rest of the group. Was Rand okay? Were they talking? What were they talking about? Was Moiraine using her magic on him? Was he going to be okay? What happened to him?

Was it the flowers?

“Mat!” Nynaeve hissed.

He turned back to her and blinked things back into focus.

“You’re going to hurt yourself craning your neck like that.” She insisted. “He’s with Moiraine, she isn’t going to push him over the edge!”

_Another thought to add to the list._ “I know, I just…” Mat trailed off, turning back to look behind them.

A small pool of light in the darkness approached them.

“Matrim, if you don’t-” Nynaeve started.

“Nynaeve, they’re right there!” Mat pointed aggressively.

Aldieb daintily walked through their group, to join Mandarb at the front where Moiraine and Lan put their heads together to talk.

Rand rode his horse up beside Mat, awkwardly avoiding his eyes. Mat studied his face, intently watching the red flush up Rand’s neck and face. A small trickle of blood ran out of the corner of Rand’s mouth, and he wiped it with a sleeve. A sleeve already stained with blood.

Rand looked up at Mat, worry creasing his brow. Mat smiled comfortingly and held out his hand to the other boy. Rand coughed into the front of his shirt and took his hand.

At the next Guiding, Lan announced it was midday. How he knew anything about time in this place was baffling. Mat wasn’t sure how long had passed, it had felt somewhere between hundreds of hours or barely a few. Lan dismounted to parcel out small rations of food. Mat rose to climb down from the saddle, but Moiraine shook her head at him. “Time is too valuable in the Ways to waste. For us, much too valuable. We will stop when it is time to sleep.”

Mat took the parcel of food he was offered and rubbed his behind. He was already sick of being in the saddle. Loial began to lead them into the next path and Lan quickly mounted to follow him. The reins of the packhorse passed from Egwene to Nynaeve, and Perrin and Egwene began talking, almost immediately, in hushed voices.

Mat awkwardly held the lantern pole under his arm, reins and food juggled between his hands. He swore as he nearly dropped the lantern pole, hurriedly pooling his food on the saddle in front of him.

“Here, Mat, I have an idea,” Rand said, voice cracked and weak. He held out his pole to Mat, who took it with confusion etched on his face. He held his own lantern pole in the other hand, reins slipped between both hands.

Rand took the food from his lap, opening it and holding out a piece for him to eat. Mat blinked, then leaned forward and took the cheese from between Rand’s fingers. Rand smiled softly and held out another piece of food, which Mat quickly took again. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was.

As Mat chewed on his food, Rand ate from his own parcel of food. He held out another piece of cheese, coughing as Mat took the food from him, teeth gently grazing his fingers.

Moiraine glanced over her shoulder at them, and Rand flushed and turned away from her gaze. Mat looked on, trying to puzzle out what was going on. Rand coughed again, blood trickling down his palm as he clenched his fist around something. He threw it out into the darkness, wiping his hand on his pants. He used his other hand to hold out another piece of food to Mat.

Once they had finished eating, Mat handed Rand his lantern pole back and they clasped hands again as they continued on.

\--------------------------------

It had been going smoothly, Rand and Mat making a game out of sending complicated patterns to each other through their linked hands. Until Loial let out a startled noise. Everyone turned to look. Their bridge had been completely normal, or as normal as the Ways could be, until now. Ahead of them the bridge ended abruptly, only the darkness ahead of them.

The rest of the bridge was still ahead of them, a few paces distance between the two. Mat couldn’t see anything holding the ends up. Suddenly, the stone bridge they stood on seemed as if it would break at any time, despite the reliability the sturdy roads had already shown.

Rand urged his horse closer to the edge, letting his hand slip from Mat’s grasp. He held his lantern out into the darkness, and Mat felt his stomach drop. Rand would surely fall over if he went any closer!

Rand hastily backed his horse away from the edge, reaching out to grab Mat’s hand. Mat took his hand, intertwining their fingers as though he could stop Rand from going over the edge. As if his hands could protect Rand.

“Is it to this you’ve brought us, Aes Sedai?” Nynaeve shrieked. “All this just to find out we have to go back to Caemlyn after all?”

“We do not have to go back,” Moiraine said calmly. “Not all the way to Caemlyn. There are many paths along the ways to any place. We only need to go back far enough for Loial to find another path that will lead to Fal Dara. Loial? Loial!”

The Ogier started, tearing his gaze away from the gap. “What? Oh. Yes, Aes Sedai. I can find another path. I had… I had not dreamed the decay had gone so far. If the bridges themselves are breaking, it may be that I cannot find the path you want. It may be that I cannot find a path back, either. The bridges could be falling behind us even now.”

“There has to be a way,” Perrin growled. His eyes shone golden in the light, and Mat cowered, leaning closer to Rand and squeezing his hand tightly.

“It will be as the Wheel weaves,” Moiraine said mysteriously, “but I do not believe the decay is as fast as you fear. Look at the stone, Loial. Even I can tell that this is an old break.”

“Yes,” Loial said slowly. “Yes, Aes Sedai, I can see it. There is no rain or wind here, but that stone has been in the air for ten years, at least.” He nodded with a relieved grin, seeming to forgot his situation until he looked around again. “I could find other paths more easily than Mafal Dadaranell. Tar Valon for instance? Or Stedding Shangtai. It’s only three bridges to Stedding Shangtai from the last Island. I suppose the Elders want to talk to me by this time.”

“Fal Dara, Loial. The Eye of the World lies beyond Fal Dara, and we must reach the Eye.”

“Fal Dara,” Loial agreed with Moiraine reluctantly. He wove his horse through the group, Rand and Mat unclasping hands so the others could walk between them. Mat didn’t miss the look Perrin gave them, but his eyes were so unnerving Mat couldn’t understand what he meant. As the group walked on, Mat grabbed Rand’s hand and held it tightly, urging his horse closer to Rand’s. The broken bridge had scared him more than he cared to admit.

At the Island, Loial pored over the script on the slab, muttering to himself. Rand dismounted from his horse to cough over the edge again. Mat winced as he watched Rand wipe the blood from his lips. Loial started them towards another bridge, and Rand quickly mounted and moved his horse to speak with Loial. He gave the Ogier a comforting smile as he took the reins of the packhorse, speaking quietly as his throat grated with the words.

Loial said something else to Rand, who peeled back to guide the packhorse, with his lost-in-thought face. Mat looked over sadly at him from the back of the group, and Rand gestured guiltily to the reins in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol Mat’s just like “rand coughing into my food? Nah, it’s fine to eat” haha. Also I forgot about this scene until I came back to write it, so cute.
> 
> Reminder: next upload should be next Monday, but I'm kinda inconsistent so wish me luck
> 
> also does anyone know how to get those lines to sit nicely in the format?


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I didn't actually write myself any notes for this chapter. Anyway, it's like way too early to be awake but I remembered I was going to upload and just decided to do it now. I have a few chapters written in advance, so I shouldn't be taking anymore breaks for at least a while.

By the time Moiraine announced it was time to sleep, Mat had already taken the packhorse and handed it off to Loial. He had been glad to be back beside Rand, taking a strange comfort in the hand holding and presence of the other. Rand was mostly silent, communicating in small smiles and hand gestures to not strain his throat further. Mat watched as Rand yawned again, feeling his face heat as he stared.

Turning away, he looked out into the darkness, snickering loudly. How could she expect them to sleep in the ways? Despite this, he still climbed down from his saddle as quick as everyone else did, regretting his hand leaving Rand’s. _It wasn’t safe anymore._

Egwene and Nynaeve followed Moiraine’s instructions, setting up a strange looking oil stove to make tea. The boys followed Lan’s lead, hobbling and unsaddling the horses. All three Emond’s Field boys stared at the oil stove, prompting Lan’s explanation.

“Warders use them in the Blight, where wood can be dangerous to burn.”

Finally, tripods were set around the Island, lanterns hooked atop them creating a stifling ring of light around their makeshift encampment. The group gathered around the stove, fear bringing them closer together. Or at least, that’s what Mat told himself when he felt Rand’s legs lightly pressed against his own.

Moiraine and Lan prepared tea as Loial examined the Guiding once again. Mat watched them suspiciously, barely trusting Moiraine’s actions. She procured a small, unmarked bag and tipped a generous heaping of it’s powdered contents into a cup.

“What’s that?” Mat asked, as nonchalantly as possible. His eyes widened as she passed Rand the cup, which he accepted with silent thanks. “What is it?” He pressed.

“It’s a soothing mixture, for his throat.”

Mat glared her down, eyeing the bag she still held daintily in one hand.

“I’ll mix it in my own tea, if that will settle your thoughts. You are all part of the Pattern, it would not do to have one of you drop dead.”

Mat nodded quickly, feeling his face flush as the others watched him. She mixed in the powder, taking a deliberate sip of her tea.

Mat hung his head as she did, feeling foolish, and gratefully accepting the cup Lan offered him. He jumped when Rand’s thumb brushed over his hand, yanking his arm away and nearly jumping onto Nynaeve in his haste.

Rand looked at him with hurt eyes, curling into himself as he nursed his cup. Mat cursed his own overreaction, he was just so at edge in the Ways. Maybe it was the dagger. _Or maybe it was just himself._

Loial sat heavily beside Moiraine, jerking Mat out of his thoughts, rubbing a dinner-plate sized palm across the stone floor of the Island. “Once things grew on the Islands,” he reminisced sadly, “All the books tell of it. There was green grass to sleep on, soft as any feather bed. Fruit trees to spice the food you’d brought with an apple or a pear or a bellfruit, sweet and crisp and juicy whatever the time of year outside.”

“Nothing to hunt,” Perrin said suddenly. Mat watched him warily as a look of surprise washed over his face. Almost surprised that he had spoken.

Egwene gently passed Loial a cup of tea, smiling softly to sooth the pain on his face. He stared out toward the darkness, holding the cup of tea without drinking, staring as if he could see the fruit trees in its depths.

“Aren’t you going to set wards?” Nynaeve asked the Aes Sedai stiffly. “Surely there must be worse than rats in this. Even if I haven’t seen anything, I can still feel.”

Moiraine rubbed her fingers against her palms thoughtfully. “You feel the taint, the corruption of the Power that made the Ways. I will not use the One Power in the Ways unless I must. The taint is so strong that whatever I tried to do would surely be corrupted.”

Everyone stayed silent at her words. Both Warder and Aes Sedai ate methodically, but the Emond’s Fielders and Loial were too put off to eat properly. Mat watched apologetically as Rand picked at his food. Rand was bent over, staring into the tiny flame as if it could somehow heat him from the chill of the Ways. He shifted closer to the oil fire, shoulders brushing Perrin’s, and legs brushing Mat’s.

Rand glanced up, mouth open with an apology forming on his lips, but stopping short as he saw Mat’s expression. Too lost in thought to realise he was staring, Mat watched as Rand’s soft lips closed, eyes trailing to meet the grey ones that already stared at him, a stormy sky looking him through. Mat jumped, eyes widening in surprise, then turned back to his food, face hot. He thought he couldn’t burn any hotter until he heard Nynaeve snicker at their antics.

Thoroughly avoiding each other’s eyes as they attempted to eat, both missed the six sets of eyes that watched them. Finally, attention turned to Moiraine, as she put her plate down and patted her lips with a napkin. “I can tell you one cheerful thing. I do not think Thom Merrilin is dead.”

Rand looked at her sharply. “But… the Fade…” he said weakly.

“Mat told me what happened in Whitebridge,” she said. “People there mentioned a gleeman, but they said nothing of him dying. They would have, I think, if a gleeman had been killed. Whitebridge is not so big as for a gleeman to be a small thing. And Thom is part of the Pattern that weaves itself around you three. Too important a part, I believe, to be cut off yet.”

“Min?” Rand said thoughtfully. “She saw something about Thom?”

“She saw a great deal,” Moiraine said wryly. “About all of you. I wish I could understand half of what she saw, but even she does not. Old barriers fail. But whether what Min does is old or new, she sees true. Your fates are bound together, interweaved many different ways. Thom Merrilin’s, too.”

Nynaeve poured herself another cup of tea as she snorted dismissively.

“I don’t see how she saw anything about any of us,” Mat said quietly. He grinned suddenly, trying not to seem put off by the feeling spiking harshly in his chest. “As I remember it, she spent most of her time looking at Rand.” The laughter he gave was forced, but no one else seemed to notice.

Egwene raised an eyebrow, staring inquisitively at Rand. “Oh? You didn’t tell me that, Moiraine Sedai.”

Rand looked across the circle at her, expression obscured from Mat’s vision. “I talked to her once,” he croaked softly, voice grating from disuse. “She dresses like a boy, and her hair is as short as Mat’s.”

Egwene giggled. “You talked to her. Once.” She nodded slowly, sipping from the cup as she defensively looked Mat up and down.

“Min was just somebody who worked at the inn in Baerlon,” Perrin said, mischievously smirking. “Not like Aram.”

Egwene choked on her tea. “Too hot,” she murmured.

“Who’s Aram?” Rand rasped worriedly. Perrin’s smile stretched enough to rival one of the smiles Mat would give back in Emond’s field, back when he was up to mischief.

“One of the Travelling People,” Egwene replied casually, red spots blooming on her cheeks.

“One of the Travelling People!” Perrin exclaimed. “He dances.”

Rand coughed into his fist.

Perrin continued, “Like a bird. Wasn’t that what you said, Egwene? It was like flying with a bird?”

Mat’s stomach dropped as he saw the jealous look cross Rand’s face. Light, why did Mat feel like this?

Was he jealous too? _Blood and bloody ashes, I must be going mad,_ he thought miserably.

Egwene set her cup down. “I don’t know if anyone else is tired, but I’m going to sleep.” She rolled herself into her blankets, deliberately avoiding eye contact with everyone. Perrin leaned over and nudged Rand in the ribs, winking. Rand grinned back, although seemingly lost in thought when he turned back to watching the fire.

Mat coughed lightly into his hands. “Maybe, Rand,” he said bitterly, “you ought to tell Egwene about Farmer Grinwell’s daughter, Else.” Egwene lifted her head to stare at Mat, who childishly poked his tongue out at her. Then she turned to stare at Rand, who looked between them, face as red as his hair.

“Sleep sounds good to me right now,” he said quickly, standing to fetch his own blankets. Mat stood and grabbed his own blankets, ignoring his racing heart.  
Soon, everyone was seeking their own blankets, lying back in their place in the circle, tucked into bedrolls. Everyone except for Moiraine and Lan, who looked as if they weren’t intending to sleep at all that night.

Mat rolled around in his bedroom, shuffling closer to Rand to whisper to him. “Rand?” he said softly. “_was_ there anything between you and Min?” He tried to hide the trouble in his voice. He stammered on, quickly. “I barely got a look at her. She _was_ pretty, but she must be nearly as old as Nynaeve.”

“What about this Else?” Perrin added cheekily from the other side of Rand, not noticing the sad tone in Mat’s voice. “She pretty?”

“Blood and ashes,” Rand mumbled, coughing weakly. “Can’t I even talk to a girl? You two are as bad as Egwene.”

“As the Wisdom would say,” Mat said mockingly, “watch your tongue.” His tone softened. “Well, if you won’t talk about it, I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Good,” Rand grumbled sleepily. He shifted closer to Mat as he spoke, voice dropped to a tired whisper. “That’s the first decent thing you’ve said.”

Rand smiled softly, eyes tracing Mat’s face. Mat snuggled deeper into his bedroll, shivering against the Ways. He looked up, catching Rand’s eyes. Rand coughed harshly, sitting up and sweeping a hand out toward darkness, before twisting around to face Perrin.

Mat stared at the blank lights above him, turning a few minutes later as he heard clothing shift. Moiraine knelt beside Rand, whispering something indecipherable. She rose, bending back down again to cup Mat’s head in her hands, leaning close to him.

“Your destiny protects you, even here. Your dreams are safe, as long as I am near, as even the Dark One cannot change the pattern.”

A feeling washed over Mat, and he yawned silently, twisting to watch Rand’s turned-away figure for a moment before his eyes closed. He slipped into the space between wake and sleep, only halted by hearing Rand shift again. Having turned back around, Rand watched him again, an unflinching confidence in his sleep-clouded mind as he caught Mat’s eye.

Mat awkwardly held a hand out of his bedroll, letting Rand’s gaze trace his arm, from his extended fingers up to where his shoulders disappeared beneath his bedroll. 

Rand took Mat’s hand in his own, shifting closer so the two of them were pushed up against each other.

Mat fought against the wave of familiarity of being held against Rand. His head fit perfectly under Rand’s chin, and it felt right to have Rand’s arm draped over his waist. The thumping of Rand’s heart was reassuring, the sturdy feel of his breath against Mat’s hair.

The two boys fell asleep fastest, cuddling into each other’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo I was so excited to start writing this scene, with them talking about the girls on their travels around the campfire. With the Cauthon rewrite, I get some Egwene/Perrin vibes in this, but don't worry, that'll disappear soon >:)


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this chapter is so short (and I have quite a few already written) I'm going to upload the next chapter on Thursday.

Mat lay curled against Rand, head on his chest, squirming as hay poked his back and legs. Rand’s arm wrapped around him, other hand stroking his hair softly.

“Rand?” Mat said softly, “Rand, do you think we’ll make it? Do you think we’ll make it to Caemlyn?”

Rand kissed the top of Mat’s head, speaking softly into his hair. “Master Namonne said tomorrow. Tomorrow, we’ll get there.”

He looked up at Rand. “If there aren’t a hundred Darkfriends waiting for us down the road, or a Fade or two.”

Rand titled his head to the sky, Mat’s gaze following. A thousand stars twinkled above them, a half-crescent moon above their lonely haystack, sitting in a green pasture stretching as far as he could see. “Don’t worry, Mat. I’ll protect you. No matter what, I won’t leave you. Now, go to sleep, my love.”

Mat rolled over, feeling himself sinking into the hay more. It felt like it was pressing harder and harder into his back, and no matter how he tossed and turned, the hard floor beneath him wasn’t going to be comfortable. His eyes opened slowly, and the cold enveloped him. Cold, empty darkness above him. “Rand?” he asked into the darkness.

He stood, watching the endless pasture around him. “Rand!” He screamed. Tears streamed down his face as he received no answer.

\--

Mat woke with a choked gasp, coughing violently. He untangled himself from Rands grasp, arms and legs curled around him. Rand woke, sleepily watching with a panicked worry as Mat stumbled away, falling onto all fours. His knees scraped across the ground as he shook, heaving as he coughed, desperately trying to dislodge something in his throat.

Finally, eyes closed and coughing into his hands, Mat felt the item in throat tumble out of his mouth. A whole stem of red and gold snapdragons, wet with saliva and tinted with blood, lay on the ground in front of him.

Mat grabbed the stem and threw it toward the darkness as he heard footsteps behind him. In his haste, he didn’t see the green petals littering the ground around him.

“What is it, Matrim?” Moiraine’s calm voice filled their bubble of light.

“It’s nothing,” Mat insisted, watching Rand from where he sat, still laying in their bedrolls. He didn’t want Rand to worry.

“Very well,” she said flatly, “Perhaps you should get some more sleep, we leave in a few hours.” Moiraine held her hand out to Mat. He carefully accepted, letting her help him off the ground onto shaking legs.

He made his way over to Rand, sleepily propped up on his elbows to watch Mat with concern.

“Mat, are you okay?” He asked quietly. Mat settled into their bedrolls, lying down close to Rand.

“I’m fine,” he chuckled weakly, coughing slightly. “Light, no one believes me.”

“I’ll believe you,” Rand said, closing his eyes and yawning, stretching out his arms for Mat to cuddle closer. Mat’s face burned, a feeling so familiar to him by now, as he ignored the eyes on them.

Perhaps he was starting to understand the feeling, if his fading dream could tell him anything. The thump of Rand’s heart set a smooth rhythm, as he dropped off into sleep again. Mat felt the arms around him pull him closer, protectively holding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m curious to see if I caught any of you with the dream thing? I had great fun writing that sequence haha
> 
> See y'all on Thursday!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: a fair bit of blood. I’m not really sure how to properly tag it, but I feel like it gets a little more gruesome in this chapter, so just in case.

Lan woke them, prodding their aching shoulders until they stirred. Mat stretched his arms over his head, trying to relieve his sore muscles from the awkward position of sleeping on hard stone. He didn’t notice, even as Rand shifted, that their bedrolls were still as tangled as their legs, blankets twisted around them.

Mat watched the others start to stand and stretch, rolling their bedrolls to pack. He made to stand, but slipped as his foot caught on the knotted fabric around his ankle. He toppled forward, cushioned from the impact of the hard stone floor by Rand. Rand opened his mouth to jokingly complain, stopping short as he caught sight of Mat. His overgrown hair shadowing his deep eyes, gazing longingly at Rand’s face.

Now, almost definitely in Rand’s lap, Mat shook himself from their staring. His face blushed ridiculously, and he quickly unwrapped the blankets that bound them together, apologising profusely. Mat coughed lightly into his fist, shaking as he felt something smooth and slick in his hand. He almost didn’t notice Rand, doubled over on all fours as he coughed, tears streaking his cheeks as he swept blood from his lips.

Mat cradled the object in his hands, staring with a confused familiarity at the red and gold shape in his hands. He ignored it, turning to Rand to watch in horror as he withdrew a hand from his mouth, pulling a full stem of pale flowers from his throat. Rand threw it, anger plain on his face, toward the darkness as he heaved for air. Neither of them had seen Moiraine, hurriedly grabbing Rand by the arm, lantern already in hand, as she dragged him away from the group.

Mat sat, staring at the stem of green flowers, lying drenched in a pool of bloody saliva. Lan finally came over, nudging him to pack up his bedroll. He did, and sympathetically rolled Rand’s as well, trying to ignore the gross puddle beside it.

Moiraine and Rand turned up after a short time, blood still streaked across his mouth when he came to sit back beside Mat. The puddle had been cleaned up, only a few foxglove petals and a red stain left behind. It hadn’t taken Mat long to identify them, they grew around Emond’s Field, or had before the winter set in. Rand smiled weakly at Mat as he sat. Mat was puzzled for a moment, staring with concern at his tired eyes, cracked bloody lips, and flushed cheeks. Mat even surprised himself when he leant forwards, arms coming around to wrap Rand in a tight hug.

He could feel arms settle hesitantly around him, holding him only for a moment before pulling away to cough green petals and red blood into his sleeve. Mat coughed as well, feeling something at the back of his throat. Moiraine had said it wasn’t meant to be contagious. No one else was meant to get sick. Rand wasn’t meant to get sick, wasn’t meant to be losing blood to the petals. Flowers.

Moiraine permitted enough time for tea before they would be leaving. One cup apiece, the mixture stirred into Mat and Rand’s. The group quickly saddled up as Lan parcelled out more food and water for a breakfast. The Warder looked as well rested as those who had slept, but Mat was sure Lan hadn’t even rested his eyes that night.

Rand nudged Mat with his lantern, gesturing to the food in front of him. Mat quickly took Rand’s parcel of food, holding out his own lantern in exchange.

“Can you eat the bread?” Mat asked worriedly.

Rand opened his mouth, rasping an attempt at an answer, before he coughed more petals and just shook his head. Mat felt horrible, his stupid flower sickness was hurting Rand! Even Moiraine could apparently do nothing to stop it.

Coughing into his own sleeve, Mat ignored the petal laying flat across his tongue, ignoring what it could possibly mean. Instead, he took a piece of cheese, holding it out for Rand to eat. Rand smiled, conflicted happiness filling his eyes as he took the food. Mat held out his own pieces of cheese and softer meat for Rand, transferring the remaining tough bread to his own bundle.

They swapped places, Mat holding the poles as Rand held out pieces of food for him. By the time they had finished breakfast, both boys were somehow more optimistic about the day, if anything could really be called “day” in the Ways. They clasped hands as they tucked away food, leaning from the saddle to push their shoulders together.

Mat shoved his shoulder against Rand’s, who shoved back harder, to the slight distress of the horses beneath them. Mat shoved back again, laughing shallowly, and Rand’s face lit up. Rand shoved his shoulders again, wheezing a laugh through his torn throat. Mat pushed again, finally shoving too hard and toppling himself off, between the horses.

With a clatter, both lanterns hit the ground, as Rand leant as far out of the saddle as he could to catch Mat before he would hit the ground. His arms wrapped around his falling friend, hooking around his chest and pulling him up. Mat felt the soles of his boots graze the ground as he was pulled upright, against the heaving side of the horse. He could feel Rand’s breath against his hair: he felt safe wrapped in Rand’s arms.

Over him, Rand gasped and lowered Mat toward the ground. Mat turned to thank Rand, words lost as he saw the fear and concern traced through Rand’s being. Rand was still tilted out of the saddle, arms out like he feared Mat would fall again. Considering how often it had happened, Mat wouldn’t be surprised if he did fall again. The trickle of blood from Rand’s mouth fell onto stained sleeves, as his eyes shone with an emotion Mat couldn’t place.

Mat watched, in an almost open-mouthed shock, as Rand held out a hand, urging Mat closer. His hand caressed Mat’s jawline, tilting his chin as he leaned further forward. Mat watched Rand’s lips, the way they parted softly, Rand’s soft breath on his cheeks as Mat stepped closer.

Nynaeve cleared her throat, and both boys sprang apart. Neither of them had seen the others stop, alerted by the clatter of lantern poles. Mat could feel a bubbling in his chest, and leaned away to cough up whatever was in his throat. Behind him, Rand coughed hideously, and soft footsteps behind them announced Moiraine making her way over.

Mat turned, cupping hands over his mouth, almost shouting out as Moiraine lifted her hands to rest of Rand’s back. He started, turning around and then settled almost as soon as her eyes closed. Mat watched with terror as she used her magic on him. At least, that’s what it had to be. Lan joined her after a second, an arm around her shoulders to hold her steady. Mat coughed again, petals falling into his clasped hands. He spat into the darkness, trying to rid himself of the flowers.

Rand had eyes on him again, dried blood on his hands and sleeves forgotten as he watched Mat cough. Moiraine stopped at the Wisdom’s horse, to briefly speak with her, before Lan called out that they had to keep moving.

“Don’t forget your lanterns, and be more careful this time!”

Mat scurried to pick up the lanterns, handing one up to Rand, a warmth spreading across him as their fingers brushed. He swung up onto the horse, hand held out for Rand. He smiled gratefully, intertwining their fingers and swinging their arms lightly between them. Mat coughed again, tossing the petals out into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had a nickle for everytime I made them fall on each other, I’d have a lot of nickels. I use dollars, so I have no idea how much a nickle is worth, but hopefully I can buy some icecream?
> 
> And yeah, I know the things they are holding makes no sense. I actually have no idea how horses work, I literally went “hey guys how tall is a horse” because I have no concept for size. I was just kinda thinking reins in clasped hands, pole in the other hand.
> 
> Anyway, it’s one of my goals to torture all you lovely people, so I hope you enjoyed the interruption :D
> 
> I should be uploading again next Monday :) I finally have a kind-of direction for the storyline now lol.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about being a day late with the upload. I was away from my computer yesterday, I didn't have access to my word document, but it's here now :D
> 
> Now I consult my book again. I always check what parts need to be written in for each chapter.

Not long after the reins of the pack horse had passed from Rand to Nynaeve’s hands, Lan called out quietly.

“Someone is following us, or something.”

The ends of the bridge they were on was far out of sight, the small bubble of light leaving them unsure when the next island would come along.  
Mat quickly nocked an arrow, loosing it into the darkness behind him before anyone could say anything. Whatever it was might try to hurt Rand, and he had to protect him! Protect them. All of them, not just Rand, he reminded himself.

Lan galloped toward them as Loial muttered, “I knew I shouldn’t have done this. Never deal with an Aes Sedai except in a _stedding_.”

Lan pushed his bow down as Mat reached for another arrow. “Stop that, you village idiot. There’s no way to tell who it is.”

“The only place they’re safe,” Loial went on.

“What else would be in a place like this besides evil?” Mat snarled, reaching for his coat.

“That’s what the Elders say,” the Ogier went on in the background, “and I should have listened to them.”

“We are, for one,” Lan pointed out, ignoring Loial.

“Maybe it’s another traveller?” Egwene said hopefully, “An Ogier, perhaps.”

“Ogier have more sense than to use the Ways,” Loial growled. “All but Loial, who has no sense at all. Elder Haman always said it, and it’s true.”

“What do you feel, Lan?” Moiraine asked tiredly. “Is it something that serves the Dark One?”

Lan shook his head, taking position in the back of their group. “I don’t know,” he said, an honest surprise in his tone. “I cannot tell. Perhaps it’s the Ways, and the taint. It all feels wrong. But whatever it is, or whatever, he’s not trying to catch us. He almost caught up at the last Island and scampered back across the bridge so as not to. If I fall behind, I might surprise him though, and see who, or what, he is.”

“If you fall behind, Warder,” Loial said firmly, “You’ll spend the rest of your life in the Ways. Even if you can read Ogier, I’ve never heard or read of a human who can find his path off the first Island lacking an Ogier guide. _Can_ you read Ogier?”  
Lan shook his head, glaring, and Moiraine said, “So as long as he does not trouble us, we will not trouble him. We have no time. No time.”

They pushed further towards the next Island, where Loial said, “If I remember the last Guiding correctly, there is a path from here that leads toward Tar Valon. Half a day’s journey at most-”

Loial’s refusal to keep on his path both irritated and intrigued Mat.

“- Not quite as long as it will take us to reach Mafal Dadaranell. I’m sure that-”

He cut off as they stepped more toward the Guiding. Mat craned his neck to see the slab of stone. Graffitied sharp chiselled lines, hard and angular, made a wound in the stone. Loial, Lan, and Moiraine all twitched into alertness as they saw the lines, while the Emond’s Fielders looked on with confusion.

“This explains so much,” Moiraine murmured, “and it makes me afraid. So much. I should have guessed. The taint, the decay. I should have guessed.”

“Guessed what?” Nynaeve said with a hushed frustration. “What is this? Who did this? I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it.”  
Moiraine turned to face them. “Trollocs.” Mat couldn’t help the fear that wracked through him as the others gasped around him. “Or Fades. Those are Trolloc runes. The Trolloc must have discovered how to enter the Ways. That must be how they got to the Two Rivers undiscovered; through the Waygate at Manetheren. There is at least one Waygate in the Blight. Manetheren was destroyed, but almost nothing can destroy a Waygate. That is how the Fades could gather a small army around Caemlyn without raising an alarm in every nation between the Blight and Andor.” She paused. “But they cannot know all the paths yet, else they would have been pouring into Caemlyn through the gate we used. Yes.”

Through their linked hands, Mat felt Rand shiver, and looked over to him. His eyes were lost in thought, horror and fear etched across his face. Mat squeezed Rand’s hand, and the other looked over with a grimace.

Ahead of them, Lan called. “They don’t use the Ways easily,” Lan called. He was no more than twenty spans off, but the light around him was dim and they crowded closer to see what he was referring to. Mat regretted as soon as he saw it, leaning off the saddle to retch, glad that lunch was sure to be soon. If they even had time to eat. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, ignoring the leftover petals littered through.

At the end of one of the bridges, the frozen shapes of Trollocs with hooked axes and scythe-like swords, reared. Their bodies had the same gray pitted texture of the stone they had been submerged into, bubbles of stone encapsulating their horrifying figures. Some of the swollen bubbles had popped, frozen in time, with snarling looks of pain etched across their faces.

Loial dismounted his horse, walking over to examine the remains of a signpost. He quickly scrambled back to his saddle. “This was the first bridge of the path from here to Tar Valon.”

Egwene’s face lay hidden in her hands, and Mat felt Rand’s hand leave his grip. He was about to speak, before he saw Rand urge his horse over to Egwene. Jealousy clutched at his heart, and he was almost certain he knew why. Rand laid a hand on her shoulder, and she twisted around, burying her head in his chest and clutching at his arms. Mat coughed, as quietly as he could manage, feeling more petals fall into his lap. He buried the feelings surfacing, focusing on Moiraine as she spoke.

“As well we are not going to Tar Valon yet.”

“How could you take it so calmly?” Nynaeve rounded on the Aes Sedai. “The same could happen to us!”

“Perhaps,” she replied, serenity overtaking her voice, a sickly feeling through Mat’s neck at her tone. He coughed again, ignoring Rand and Egwene as much as he could. “It is more likely, though, that the men, the Aes Sedai, who made the Ways protected them, building in traps for creatures of the Dark One. It is something they must have feared then, before Halfmen and Trollocs and been driven into the Blight. In any case, we cannot tarry here, and whatever way we choose, back or ahead, is as likely to have a trap as any other. Loial, do you know the next bridge?”

“Yes. Yes, they did not ruin that part of the Guiding, thank the Light.” Mat’s stomach churned as his eyes turned to Rand, with Egwene cuddled into his arms. He didn’t even feel himself coughing until he felt his throat block. He cupped hands over his mouth as he hacked up the obstruction. He took a moment to examine it, before tossing it back toward the darkness. A full flower. A red and gold snapdragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I pretty much ran around my house screaming in excitement because of Lan calling Mat a village idiot. They better not take that line out in the show, I love it. In canon, Mat wipes his mouth after the retching sound, so it’s likely Mat who actually threw up. And yep, Mat is still jealous. Hehe
> 
> See y'all next Monday (hopefully) :D


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bad at maintaining this Monday thing huh
> 
> I wrote like three chapters in a row, here we go :D

Mat glared, coughing quietly, as Egwene stayed latched to Rand’s arm for another two bridges. When she finally let go, head down and speaking to Rand quietly enough that Mat couldn’t hear, he watched Rand’s face. He seemed disappointed when she let go, smiling for her, but sadness taking over his features as she turned away. He let his horse fall to the back, beside Mat. His hand was held out again, and Mat stared, nearly immediately taking it before he withdrew, turning away from Rand and staring out into the blackness.

Despite Moiraine’s previous words, she still stopped them before they entered a bridge or an island, even making them travel more slowly than before. She waved her arms in the air in front of her, then led them onwards.

All of them seemed to be alert, peering into the darkness and ears straining for any noise around them. He saw multiple people jump when he coughed, even startled himself when Rand started coughing too.

The wet, strained cough was back, and Mat turned away as he heard Rand heave and retch, likely pulling another bundle from his throat. He wiped hands and mouth on his sleeves, then held his hand out hesitantly for Mat. He gave in, but refused to look his way.

As they moved on, Mat could feel himself relax. A cooling breeze settled over him, almost making him cold as he stole glances at Rand. As he shivered, he felt Rand tense, eyes widening as he looked around the darkness.

“Loial, didn’t you say there isn’t any wind in the Ways?”

Mat froze as well, watching Loial stop just short of the next Island, cocking his head to listen. He paled, licking his lips, only a hoarse whisper leaving his mouth. “_Machin Shin_. The Black Wind. The Light illuminate and protect us. It’s the Black Wind.”

“How many more bridges?” Moiraine asked sharply. “Loial, how many more bridges?”

“Two. I think, two.”

“Quickly, then,” she said, trotting Aldieb onto the Island. “Find it quickly!”

He talked to himself, or maybe to them, or whoever was listening, as he deciphered the Guiding. “They came out mad, screaming about _Machin Shin_. Light help us! Even those Aes Sedai could heal, they…” he trailed off, then galloped suddenly down one bridge. “This way!”

Even Moiraine did not wait to check, just urging them on as she galloped after the Ogier. Rand dropped Mat’s hand, rushing to join their frantic escape, as Mat followed quickly. The bridge seemed to tremble unsteadily beneath the thundering hooves, lanterns clanging and swinging wildly over their heads. Loial didn’t bother with the last Island’s guiding, for as soon as they spotted the white line they raced down the bridge. Mat cheered internally as they spotted the vine-carved gates in front of them, horses rearing to stop in time, the rush of wind growing even louder in their ears.

Moiraine leaned out of her saddle, then pulled back suddenly. “The _Avendesora_ leaf is not here! The key is gone!”

“Light!” Mat yelled in frustration, fear edging his voice. “Bloody Light!” Even Nynaeve didn’t scold him.

Loial let out a howl, a mournful cry.

Egwene shifted her horse backwards, touching Rand’s arm lightly. She trembled, refusing eye contact with either of the boys. Rand put his hand on hers, and Mat coughed painfully, the rushing of wind growing stronger in his ears.

Moiraine raised her staff, the end pointed toward the gate, and a sickly yellow flame sprang to life at the end of it. Flecks of black soot sparked off the end, and an acrid smoke burned off the edge of it, setting the horses dancing nervously and all of them coughing lightly. Mat coughed harder than most, throat already burning and jealousy carving up his heart. Rand coughed the hardest, airways torn by harsh flowers and endless coughing.

The stone seemed to melt like butter under the heat of the flame. Despite this, it still would take too long to cut a hole big enough for any of them to fit through, and Mat felt as though time was running out. Their cloaks started to flutter in the wind, and he could feel fear gripping him, panic taking over his thoughts. “I can feel it,” between the coughing and his fear, his voice broke uncontrollably. “Light, I can bloody feel it.”

“Done,” Moiraine said, “half done,” as the flame on her staff winked out.

Lan ran forward, the gap in the stone barely large enough to fit Loial, lying hunched over his horse. At the last moment, Mandarb twisted, the warhorse slamming its weight against the stone, likely a movement he had learnt for other horses. The stone slab split and fell, both Warder and horse falling through the Waygate. A bright light blazed through the opening, likely only a morning’s light, but searing to Mat’s eyes in comparison to their lantern light in the Ways.

Bela shot through the opening next, slapped hard on the croup by Rand, pulling Egwene through.

“All of you, out!” Moiraine shouted. “Quickly! Go!”

Nynaeve rushed her horse the packhorse into the Waygate, followed quickly by Perrin. Mat watched their movements slow outside the Waygate, the strange passage of time distorting their movements. Loial followed them, and Mat made a movement to follow, pausing as Rand stood watching.

Moiraine held her staff toward the Guiding, light shooting from the ends into the darkness, where it shrieked and roared around them. Mat had barely paused for a moment, but a selfish fear pushed him through the Waygate, the feeling of being pulled through bit by bit in an icy chill rushing through him. Finally, he pulled through the Waygate, the passage of time rendered back to normal. He urged his horse to join the others, watching fearfully through the mist as Rand exited.

Rand’s horse stumbled, nearly sending its’ rider to the ground before righting himself as if nothing had happened, trotting over to join the group. Mat gathered his cloak around himself, finally taking in the biting cold of their environment.

Finally, once it seemed like the group had been holding their breath for eternity, Moiraine appeared in the Waygate, staff held out in front of her, Aldieb being pulled out by the reins. Moiraine stood still watching the Waygate. The gate glimmered grimly in front of them, suddenly being filled with a darkness. Mat felt his gut twist as he heard it, the howl of the wind, the voices that seemed to rush from inside the wind.

Those voices seemed to rush in Mat’s ears, and he watched the depths as they spoke in a hungry frustration. _ Flesh so fine, so fine to tear, to gash the skin; skin to strip, to plait, so nice to plait the strips, so nice, so red the drops that fall; blood so red, so red, so sweet; sweet screams, pretty screams, singing screams, scream your song, sing your screams…_

The wind drifted as it spoke, the black swirling around the Waygate lessening, until Mat could no longer hear the screams. In shaky, stunted breaths, he released the breath he had been holding, glad that everyone else around him was doing the same. _At least that wasn’t just the dagger._

Mat took a moment to survey the group, Egwene and Nynaeve wrapped in each other’s embrace, fear plain across their faces. Lan stood as stoic as ever, only a slight release in his shoulders and a certain set to Mandarbs form announcing his relief. Loial’s ears were laid flat against his head, and he too stared at the Waygate.

Rand looked around, eyes finally landing on Mat. Their horses were as close as Nynaeve and Egwene’s were, but neither of them moved to touch the other. Both pairs of eyes roamed the others faces, finding fear and relief, both glad the other was okay. They leaned closer, almost close enough to feel the other’s breath on their skin.   
It seemed like a week ago that they had almost…

“It could not pass,” Moiraine said, a triumphant tone crossing her voice. “I thought it could not. I hoped it could not. Faugh!” She tossed her staff on the ground, scrubbing her hands on her cloak. The staff was blackened across half its length.

Mat tore his eyes away from Rand as she spoke, coughing into his cloak and hearing Rand do the same.

“What was that?” Nynaeve demanded, “What was it?”

“Why, _Machin Shin_, of course,” Loial said with confusion. “The Black Wind that steals souls.”

“But _what_ is it?” Nynaeve persisted. “Even with a Trolloc, you can look at it, touch it if you have a strong enough stomach. But that…” She gave a convulsive shiver.

Beside him, Rand shivered too, and Mat held his hand out for Rand to take. Something in the back of his mind reminded him like a humourful echo, of a time when holding hands, _like light-forsaken pillow friends_, had a danger to it. Now, it was just something to comfort the both of them.

“Something left from the Time of Madness, perhaps,” Moiraine replied to Nynaeve. “Or even from the War of the Shadow, the War of Power. Something hidden in the Ways so long it can no longer get out. No one, not even among the Ogier, knows how far the Ways run, or how deep. It could even be something of the Ways themselves. As Loial said, the Ways are living things, and all living things have parasites. Perhaps even a creature of the corruption itself, something born of the decay. Something that hates life and light.”

“Stop!” Egwene cried. “I don’t want to hear any more. I could hear _it_, saying…” She cut off, shivering.

_flesh so fine, skin to strip, blood so red, so red, so sweet, sweet singing screams___

_ _“There is worse to be faced yet,” Moiraine said, in a voice so soft Mat wondered if she meant for them to hear it. Wearily, she climbed into her saddle and settled with a grateful sigh. Lan came up beside her, a supporting arm laid across her back._ _

_ _“This is dangerous,” she said, looking at the broken gates. “The thing cannot get out, but anyone could wander in. Agelmar must send men to wall it up, once we reach Fal Dara.” She pointed north, to towers in the misty distance above the barren treetops._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was… interesting. Writing the Machin Shin was cool, but it was a lot of copying.
> 
> Feel free to comment and leave your thoughts, I love hearing the feedback. See y'all next Monday :D


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you think you already edited a chapter but then realise as you go to upload that it still needs to be checked......

Waygates, located by Ogier groves, had probably once been surrounded by beautiful scenery. Mat didn’t see any of the stuff in the legends he had been told. Rolling hills, topped with dead grass and cold winds lay around them. Gray skeletal trees provided no resistance to the environment around him.

Loial didn’t comment on any of this, but it was clear from the way he shook his head that it hurt him.

“As dead as the blasted lands,” Nynaeve said.

“At least we’re out,” Perrin argued, and Egwene wrapped her cloak further around herself.

“Out where?” Mat added. Surely there was something they were heading to?

“Shienar,” Lan told them. “We’re in the Borderlands.”

“We are close to Fal Dara,” Moiraine said. “Only a few miles.”

_“Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand. When are we going to stop?” Mat repeated, childishly tugging on Rand’s hand._

_“Once we find an inn.”_

_Mat huffed but kept walking, dragging his feet in the dirt._

_Dusk turned into night… and Mat peeked out from under his eyelids, as Rand released his hand… heard Rand search his pockets for coins and his gasp of relief assured Mat they would have a room that night. Rand grabbed Mat’s hand again and led him towards the flickering lights._

_“When are we going to stop?” Mat whined again, peering ahead at the vague lights in the distance._

_“When we’re somewhere warm,” came the reply._

Hopefully it was warm there. Mat was cold. So cold.

With one hand wrapped around Rand’s, he reached up for the scarf, trying to tug it over his eyes. It was too bright. He gasped, feeling panicked as he closed his eyes. Where was his scarf?

Rand adjusted his grip in Mat’s hand, noticing his closed eyes. “Mat?”

“Raaand… when are we going to stop?” he asked weakly.

“Moiraine said a few miles?” Rand rasped, confusing lacing his words.

Mat could feel his vision blur over as he searched for his scarf, hand raking through his hair in frustration. He pulled down it down over his face, long hair falling over his eyes.

Rand urged his horse closer, reaching with his other hand for Mat’s face. Mat instantly froze as a cold hand caressed his cheek, and he turned to Rand.

They weren’t still on the road. They were with everyone else. He didn’t need his scarf. Rand smiled softly, reaching up to smooth Mat’s hair back from his eyes.

Mat felt his stomach churn pleasantly, red taking over his face. He coughed, turning away. He turned back quickly as Rand’s hand left his grip. Rand coughed again, violently. Green flowers and blood fell from his stained lips onto the dead ground around them. 

“What happened to those trees,” Rand suddenly asked, trying to turn his own attention away from Mat. Clusters of trees stood split, as if struck by lightning.

“The cold,” Lan answered. ”Sometimes the winter is so cold here the sap freezes, and the trees burst. There are nights when you can hear them cracking like fireworks, and the air is so sharp you think you might shatter, too. There are more than usual, this winter past.”

“Who says winter’s passed*?” Mat complained, teeth chattering.

“Why this, a fine spring, sheepherder,” Lan said. “A fine spring to be alive. But if you want warm, well, it will be warm in the Blight.”

“Blood and ashes. Blood and bloody ashes!” he whimpered. Rand took his hand and squeezed it, flashing him a comforting smile.

\-------

They began to pass farms, devoid of life. Despite the hour, there was no smoke rising from chimneys, no children running around the streets. The farmland was empty save for an abandoned plow or wagon. No one worked the fields, no livestock stood idly.

One farm close to the road had a lone chicken, scratching in the yard. The barn doors were broken, one left open haphazardly. No dogs ran out to greet them. 

Overturned buckets and an old scythe lay in the overgrown grass. Mat barely took notice of the strangely peaked roof, so different from the flat roofs of the Two Rivers. The wooden shingles that nearly met the ground had patches missing.

Moiraine frowned at the farmhouse, lifting her reins to lead her white mare closer. The Emond’s Fielders gathered together, Loial standing further back.

“I don’t think she expected this,” Nynaeve said quietly, glancing out to the empty fields.

“Where did they all go?” Egwene said. “Why? They can’t have been gone very long.”

“What makes you say that?” Mat asked sceptically. “From the look of that barn door, they could’ve been gone all winter.”  
Both women looked incredulously at him.

“The curtains in the window,” Egwene said patiently, voice slowed as if she thought Mat was a child. “They look too light for winter curtains, even here. As cold as it is here, no woman would have had those up more than a week or two, maybe less.”

“Curtains,” Perrin chuckled, but his smile vanished as soon as Egwene and Nynaeve glared at him. “Oh, I agree with you. There wasn’t enough rust on that scythe for any more than a week in the open. You should’ve seen that Mat.” He leant closer, a grin across his face, and avoided eyes with Egwene and Nynaeve as he lowered his voice. “Even if you missed the curtains.”

Mat stared at Perrin, trying not to shudder as he stared at the yellow eyes. His own eyesight was always better than Perrin’s had been, and Mat could barely even see the scythe well enough to make out the blade, let alone any rust on it.

Mat blinked, then continued on. “I don’t really care where they went,” he grumbled. “I just want to find someplace with a fire. Soon.”

“But why did they go?” Rand said almost silently, eyes staring into nothing. Then loud enough for everyone to hear, “Nynaeve, maybe you and Egwene don’t have to go to the Eye with us.” He dropped Mat’s hand, and Mat stared with a scandalised expression as Rand walked closer to the women.

“Maybe it’s enough for you to be close,” Rand continued. “Moiraine didn’t say you have to go. Or you, Loial. You could stay at Fal Dara. Until we come back. Or you could start for Tar Valon. Maybe there’ll be a merchant train, or I’ll bet Moiraine would even hire a coach. We will meet in Tar Valon, when it’s all over.”

“Ta’veren.” Loial sighed, seeming a ripple of thunder in the horizon. “You swirl lives around you, Rand Al’Thor, you and your friends. Your fate chooses ours.”

The thought of his facing being decided by someone was unwelcome, _but at least it’s Rand_, he thought.

The Ogier shrugged, a smile cracking his broad features. “Besides, it will be something to meet the Green Man. Elder Haman always talks about his meeting with the Green Man, and so does my father, and most of the Elders.”

“So many?” Perrin said. ”The stories say the Green Man is hard to find, and no one can find him twice.”

“Not twice, no,” Loial agreed. “But then, I have never met him, and neither have you. He doesn’t seem to avoid Ogier the way he does you humans. He knows so much about trees. Even the Tree Songs.”

Rand spoke again. “The point I was trying to make is-”

Nynaeve cut him off. “_She_ says Egwene and I are part of the Pattern, too. All woven in with you three. If she is to be believed, there’s something about the way that piece of the Pattern is woven that might stop the Dark One. And I am afraid I do believe her; too much has happened not to. But if Egwene and I go away, what might we change about the Pattern?”

“I was only trying to-”

She cut him off again. “I know what you were trying to do.” She glared at Rand until he shifted uneasily in his saddle, then her expression softened. “I know what you were trying to do, Rand. I have little liking for any Aes Sedai, and this one least of all, I think. I have less for going into the Blight, but least of all is the liking I have for the Father of Lies. If you boys…”

She paused for a moment, a small smile on her face. “You men, can do what has to be done when you’d rather do almost anything else, why do you think I will less? Or Egwene.”

Nynaeve turned away from Rand, giving each of the boys a sure smile. She gathered her reins, glancing towards Moiraine. “I wonder if we’re going to reach this Fal Dara place soon, or does she mean us to spend the night out in this?”

Nynaeve trotted over to Moiraine, and Mat lowered his voice for Rand and Perrin to hear. “She called us men. It seems like only yesterday she was saying we shouldn’t be off leading strings, and now she calls us men.” He couldn’t help the pride that snaked into his words.

“You shouldn’t be off your mothers apron strings,” Egwene said half-heartedly, sparing a glance for Rand. She moved Bela close to his bay, and lowered her voice so none of the others could hear although Mat, at least, tried.** Egwene pulled Rand a few steps further from Mat, so even his keen hearing wouldn’t pick up what she was saying. He glared at her, wanting to know. What was she telling him?

He whispered back to her, then his eyes glazed over in thought. She smiled gratefully and pulled to the back with Nynaeve as the group started forwards again. Mat kept his place in line, unsure if Rand wanted company. Ahead of him, Rand held his hand out, still lost in thought, and Mat surprised himself with how quickly he spurred the horse forward to take Rand’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yeah I know it’s weird for me to do this but I think this word is more grammatically correct than “past”. So yeah.  
**I copied this sentence word for word because how great is that in canon XD  
I may or may not have absolutely binged Voltron recently. And as I’m writing I realise that Mat’s hair is like… the same length as Keith’s, at least right now.  
Poor Mat really can’t handle the cold. Cuddle time :D
> 
> ALSO if you guys haven't seen, Insomnia_Productions started their pirate Cauthor fic and I am _living_ for it, go check it out if you haven't already :D


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people :D  
I'm a little bit stuck writing the next chapter (37), so it might be a while before that one uploads, but trust me it will make up for it... if not in that chapter, maybe in the next few after that.

The town of Fal Dara wasn’t built for beauty, but it’s purpose was clear. Despite how small it was, the grey stone walls seemed impenetrable. For miles around, any feature of the land was cut shorter than the grass, so any approaching person could be seen no matter how well they tried to hide. The towers along the wall, topped with wooden hoardings, held pennants flapping in the wind, and the stooping hawk of Shienar seemed to fly across their walls. The city itself sat on hills higher than those surrounding it, and Mat had seen it across the horizon long before they were near it.

As they approached, Lan pulled down the hook of his cloak, and motioned for the others to do the same.

Mat put a hand up to his, not wanting to lose the minimal protection he had against the cold.

Lan stared him down. “It’s the law in Shienar, in all the Borderlands. No one may hide his face inside a town’s walls.”

“Are they all that good looking?” Mat chuckled, teeth still chattering as he spoke.

“A halfman can’t hide with his face exposed,” Lan said flatly.

Mat dropped the smile immediately, pushing back the hood hastily.

The dark iron gates stood wide open, with a dozen armoured guards standing in an organised group. They were clad in golden yellow surcoats bearing the Black Hawk, the hilts of longswords strapped to their backs peeking over their shoulders. Horses stood tethered nearby, steel bardings covering their bodies, lances to stirrup, ready to ride at an instant.

Mat expected them to stop the group, but instead they waved excitedly to Lan and Moiraine, calling out happily.

“Dai Shan!” one guard yelled, gauntleted fists shaking over his head. “Dai Shan!”

Several other cries went up as well.

“Glory to the Builders,” and “_Kiserai ti Wansho!” surprised Loial, a broad smile splitting his face._

_One man came to ride beside Lan. “Will the Golden Crane fly again, Dai Shan?”_

_“Peace, Ragan,” Lan said, and the man fell away. His face was suddenly grim, but he returned each of their smiles and waves._

_As they rode through the paved streets, Mat found himself fingering the edge of his hood, almost pulling it up as the cold wind whipped at his ears. He crossed his arms around his middle, trying to get warm, as he watched Rand and the crowds. He saw the people here were packed cheek-by-jowl, with none of the excitement or grimness he’d seen in cities before. They almost seemed… bored, emotionless._

_Rand watched the crowds with the same worried frown Mat wore. The children were sat silently atop wagons, above cages of chickens, while other livestock were crammed in makeshift pens. Wagons of household items, chests packed so full clothes spilled from their binds, sat barely held by rope. This is where the farmers had gone._

_Mat could feel himself sway, staring numbly at the crowd. He stared at Rand, hoping the other would notice and could help him… somehow._

_Rand finally saw him, eyes going wide as he motioned Mat closer. From on top of horses, Rand was limited in what he could do, but he took Mat’s hand again and braced his side with the other hand._

_With blue lips, Mat smiled softly, coughing into his own lap as Rand held him up. His vision flickered, but he stayed on his horse. As they went onward, crowds started to seem more grim, people giving them dirty looks, some spitting on the ground as they rode on. Perhaps the inner city was more used to the cold, more used to all this devastation. Maybe they were just exhausted like Mat was._

_In the middle of the town, Lan led them to a fortress, a massive stone pile on the highest hill. From the gate towers, people yelled enthusiastically to them._

_“Welcome Dai Shan!” and “the Golden Crane!”_

_Their hooves beat loudly on the wooden drawbridge lowered for them, and Mat felt himself cough up petals and a flower as Rand held him tighter. It was a long fall in the dried up moat, the bottom lined with wooden spikes._

_Mat felt himself steady more as more walls protected the city slightly from the cold. In this first courtyard, the bored bustle was the same. However, instead of farmers packing its walls, weaponry crafters and armoured men alongside forgeries and armoured horses._

_Lan called for them to dismount, and Rand helped Mat untie his belongings as eager grooms came for them. Once their belongings had been taken, Mat moved to lean against Rand, teeth chattering and legs shaking as he felt the cold invade him._

_Rand’s arms came around him, as Rand turned Mat around, pulling him against his chest. Mat’s head rested in the crook of Rand’s neck, and his arms wrapped back around Rand’s chest._

_A man clad in plate-and-mail leather came to greet them, and Mat turned his head to watch them greet. By the time Mat felt warm enough to move, not that he wanted to leave the embrace, the man was beckoning them inside._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cold. Cuddles.  
It’s raining right now and I want cold cuddles, so am I projecting? Definitely. Is there canonical evidence for Mat to be this fazed by the cold? Kinda.
> 
> As I said, next few updates might take a while. Hope y'all are doing well :)


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep! I'm back :D  
No set scheduling, cause life is pretty hectic right now. But I'm excited that I wrote something, so I decided to post. I only skimmed back over it for mistakes, so please let me know of any mistakes so I can fix them right away.
> 
> This chapter gave me a lot of grief trying to write, and I was stuck for ages copying out all the dialogue. So, I found a pdf online, hit copy-paste, and viola! Anything before this line is written in my usual format:  
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+  
While anything after the line will have all the original text copied, with little Cauthor things thrown in. If you look for the really spaced sections, those are the parts where I've added some little sweet stuff in. For those just chasing Cauthor content, find those sections. If you want to read all the plot kinda stuff, just read everything. There's nothing major here for Cauthor content, no big storylines in play, just cutesy stuff, so this chapter is skippable.  
Anyway, I hope I've made it easy enough to navigate. Thanks for sticking around everyone, please enjoy.

Inside the fortress, Mat kept close to Rand, one arm still wrapped around his middle as they walked. Colourful tapestries and long silk scenes of battles adorned the otherwise bare walls, all done with the minimal lines necessary to communicate meaning.

Rand started coughing again, a broken line of green petals and flowers dotting the corridors they walked. Mat coughed too, a more infrequent petal line alongside Rand’s. He just feared one of them would start coughing blood again, glad that Rand’s blood-soaked sleeves were hidden from sight.

“I am glad the call reached you, Dai Shan,” the man continued. “Will you raise the Golden Crane banner once more?”

“Are things really as bad as they appear, Ingtar?” Lan asked evasively.

Ingtar shook his head quickly, but he hesitated before smiling. “Things are never as bad as they appear, Dai Shan. A little worse than usual this year, that is all. The raids continued through the winter, even in the hardest of it. But the raiding was no worse than anywhere else along the Border. They still come in the night, but what else can be expected in the spring, if this can be called spring. Scouts return from the Blight – those who do come back – with news of Trolloc camps. Always fresh news of more camps. But we will meet them at Tarwin’s Gap, Dai Shan, and turn them back as we always have.”

“Of course,” Lan said. Although, he didn’t seem convinced.

Mat was already suspicious of Ingtar. This man claimed things weren’t that bad, and then went on to say how it was worse. Especially when his grin slipped a moment, Mat decided not to trust him. _Or was that just the dagger?_

The man showed them to the study, then left quickly, claiming pressing duties. Mat quickly untangled himself from Rand, unknowingly sending them both into coughing fits. He didn’t want to impose any more attention onto them from the general. Not that there was anything to draw attention to.

With petals dropped outside the door, the group entered the room. It was the same as every other place within the fortress, stone walls with only one tapestry. A battle covered an entire wall, of men in Fal Dara’s armour fighting Trollocs and Halfmen in a mountain pass. The door they had entered from had a heavy bar across it, and the windows were only arrowslits in the wall.

The room itself was fairly empty, with a single chest, a table, and a few chairs. The racks on the wall seemed to catch Rand’s eyes, and Mat watched with a small smile as Rand admired the armour and the swords.

The man sitting in the study rose as they entered, skirting carefully around the table littered with maps, blank sheets of paper, and pens standing in inkwells. He was older, his head shaved except for a topknot of white hair, but his civilian clothes and almost-calm appearance didn’t undermine the warrior’s grace he held himself with.

“Peace, it is good to see you, Dai Shan,” the Lord said. “And you, Moiraine Aes Sedai, perhaps even more. Your presence warms me, Aes Sedai.”

“_Ninte calichniye no domashita, Agelmar Dai Shan_,” Moiraine replied formally. Despite the words, her tone suggested they were old friends. “Your welcome warms me, Lord Agelmar.”

“_Kodome calichniye ga ni Aes Sedai hei._ Here is always a welcome for Aes Sedai,” Agelmar turned to Loial. “You are far from the stedding, Ogier, but you honour Fal Dara. Always glory to the Builders. _Kiserai ti Wansho hei_.”

“I am unworthy.” Loial bowed. “It is you who do me honour,” he replied, stiffly eyeing the walls as if the stone offended him, visibly struggling with himself.  
Servants arrived in gold-and-black, soft shoes making no noise as they brought various items on platters, dried plums and apricots, with mulled wine and damp, hot cloths. Mat readily accepted the warm wine and cloths, wanting any heat he could find in the freezing weather. Agelmar called for them to prepare baths and rooms.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

“A long journey from Tar Valon," he said. "You must be tired."

"A short journey the path we came," Lan told him, "but more tiring than the long way."  
Agelmar looked puzzled when Lan stopped talking, but merely said, "A few days' rest will put you all in fine fettle."  
"I ask one night's shelter, Lord Agelmar," Moiraine said, "for ourselves and our horses. And fresh supplies in the morning, if you can spare them. We must leave you early, I am afraid."

Mat leaned against the wall behind him, still recovering from the bitter cold outside. The icy stone didn’t provide warmth, but at least he hadn’t collapsed. Rand leaned beside him, shoulder brushing his.

Agelmar frowned. "But I thought ... Moiraine Sedai, I have no right to ask it of you, but you would be worth a thousand lances in Tarwin's Gap. And you, Dai Shan. A thousand men _will_ come when they hear the Golden Crane flies once more."

"The Seven Towers are broken," Lan said harshly, "and Malkier is dead; the few of her people left, scattered across the face of the earth. I am a Warder, Agelmar, sworn to the Flame of Tar Valon, and I am bound into the Blight."

"Of course, Dai Sh-Lan. Of course. But surely a few days' delay, a few weeks at most, will make no difference. You are needed. You, and Moiraine Sedai."

Mat barely concentrated on the conversation around him, more focused on just how close Rand was. Had he moved closer? With the shoulders pressed together, Mat was finding it hard to keep from coughing. He didn’t want Agelmar to think they were sick, what if he demanded they leave in case they infected him?

Moiraine took a silver goblet from one of the servants. "Ingtar seems to believe you will defeat this threat as you have defeated many others across the years."

"Aes Sedai," Agelmar said wryly, "if Ingtar had to ride alone to Tarwin's Gap, he would ride the whole way proclaiming that the Trollocs would be turned back once more. He has almost pride enough to believe he _could_ do it alone."

"He is not as confident as you think, this time, Agelmar." The Warder held a cup, but he did not drink. "How bad is it?”

Agelmar hesitated, pulling a map from the tangle on the table. He stared unseeing at the map for a moment, then tossed it back. "When we ride to the Gap," he said quietly, "the people will be sent south to Fal Moran. Perhaps the capital can hold. Peace, it must. Something must hold.“

"That bad?" Lan said, and Agelmar nodded wearily.

Mat caught the look Rand sent him, truly worried about how dire their situation was. But he just kept getting distracted. Rand gave him a softened look as they caught eyes again, grey shimmering with apprehension and fear and something else Mat couldn’t place. It was that look he had caught him staring with a thousand times, one Mat was sure Rand saw on his face right now.

Agelmar went on grimly.

"Kandor, Arafel, Saldaea - the Trollocs raided them all straight through the winter. Nothing like that has happened since the Trolloc Wars; the raids have never been so fierce, or so large, or pressed home so hard. Every king and council is sure a great thrust is coming out of the Blight, and every one of the Borderlands believes it is coming at them. None of their scouts, and none of the Warders, report Trolloc massing above their borders, as we have here, but they believe, and each is afraid to send fighting men elsewhere. People whisper that the world is ending, that the Dark one is loose again. Shienar will ride to Tarwin's Gap alone, and we will be outnumbered at least ten to one. At least. It may be the last Ingathering of the Lances.

"Lan - no! - Dai Shan, for you _are_ a Diademed Battle Lord of Malkier whatever you say. Dai Shan, the Golden Crane banner in the van would put heart into men who know they are riding north to die. The word will spread like wildfire, and though their kings have told them to hold where they are, lances will come from Arafel and Kandor, and even from Saldaea. Though they cannot come in time to stand with us in the Gap, they may save Shienar."

Rand stood mostly in the corner, shoulders against both walls, with Mat facing him almost entirely. They seemed lost to the world around them, a moment Perrin would likely hold over them when he got the chance. Mat felt completely enraptured by Rand. His eyes glinted something promising, reflected the light from the arrowslit windows. Almost like the moon, gazing down at him as if Mat somehow had the fascination of his entire world.

Lan peered into his wine. His face did not change, but wine slopped over his hand; the silver goblet crumpled in his grip. Mat jumped, nearly knocking Rand’s forehead as they change in conversation was halted by the ruined sounds of the goblet. He turned back, an embarrassed chuckle gracing his lips, to see Rand trying to cough as quietly as possible into his sleeve.

At least Rand was smiling too. As the sleeve moved from his mouth, a small trickle of blood caught the corner of his lips and Mat, almost instinctually, wiped it with his own sleeve. Rand blushed the colour of his hair, and turned, placing his back against the wall almost as if he were trying not to look at Mat. Mat, as well, kept his face turned away in an attempt to ease the heat pooling in his cheeks.

A servant took the ruined cup and wiped the Warder's hand with a cloth; a second put a fresh goblet in his hand while the other was whisked away. Lan did not seem to notice. "I cannot!" he whispered hoarsely. When he raised his head his blue eyes burned with a fierce light, but his voice was calm again, and flat. "I am a Warder, Agelmar." His sharp gaze slid across Rand and Mat and Perrin to Moiraine. "At first light I ride to the Blight."

Agelmar sighed heavily. "Moiraine Sedai, will you not come, at least? An Aes Sedai could make the difference."

To anyone watching it would have seemed like a game. Mat and Rand stole glances at each other, turning away as soon as the other would see, only to glance back in a few seconds. Unbeknownst to them, Perrin was nearly doubled over in silent laughter, watching their antics.

"I cannot, Lord Agelmar." Moiraine seemed troubled. "There is indeed a battle to be fought, and it is not chance that the Trollocs gather above Shienar, but our battle, the true battle with the Dark One, will take place in the Blight, at the Eye of the World. You must fight your battle, and we ours."

"You cannot be saying he is loose!" Rocklike Agelmar sounded shaken, and Moiraine quickly shook her head.

"Not yet. If we win at the Eye of the World, perhaps not ever again."

"Can you even find the Eye, Aes Sedai? If holding the Dark One depends on that, we might as well be dead. Many have tried and failed."

"I can find it, Lord Agelmar. Hope is not lost yet."

Agelmar studied her, and then the others. He appeared puzzled by Nynaeve and Egwene; their farmclothes contrasted sharply with Moiraine's silk dress, though all were travelstained. "They are Aes Sedai, too?" he asked doubtfully. When Moiraine shook her head, he seemed even more confused.

Agelmar’s gaze ran over the young men from Emond's Field, settling on Rand, brushing the redwrapped sword at his waist, staring for a moment at the weird scene Mat and Rand had silently made of themselves. "A strange guard you take with you, Aes Sedai. Only one fighting man." He glanced at Perrin, who had managed to calm his laughter enough to be judged, and at the axe hanging from his belt.

"Perhaps two. But both barely more than lads. Let me send men with you. A hundred lances more or less will make no difference in the Gap, but you will need more than one Warder and three youths. And two women will not help, unless they are Aiel in disguise. The Blight is worse than usual this year. It - stirs."

"A hundred lances would be too many," Lan said, "and a thousand not enough. The larger the party we take into the Blight, the more chance we will attract attention. We must reach the Eye without fighting, if we can. You know the outcome is all but foretold when Trollocs force battle inside the Blight."

Agelmar nodded grimly, but he refused to give up. "Fewer, then. Even ten good men would give you a better chance of escorting Moiraine Sedai and the other two women to the Green Man than will just these young fellows."

A strange fear gripped Rand’s face, and Mat wished he had been paying more attention to the conversation. Rand tucked his thumbs behind his sword belt, gripping the buckle hard, as the look of being deep in thought glazed over his eyes. Mat slowly reached out, unwrapping Rand’s fingers from the harsh grip on the buckle. Rand jumped a little as he did, then smiled softly. Mat linked their pinky fingers, moving closer to hide their link.

"No men," Moiraine said. Agelmar opened his mouth again, and she went on before he could speak. "It is the nature of the Eye, and the nature of the Green Man. How many from Fal Dara have ever found the Green Man and the Eye?"

"Ever?" Agelmar shrugged. "Since the War of the Hundred Years, you could count them on the fingers of one hand. No more than one in five years from all the Borderlands together."

Mat leaned into Rand, basking in his warmth, linking multiple fingers. The usual worry that plagued his mind seemed to be muffled, like it was covered by a blanket, no longer terrified someone would find them over their linked hands. He felt… safe. Mat’s head drooped, resting against Rand’s shoulder.

"No one finds the Eye of the World," Moiraine said, "unless the Green Man wants them to find it. Need is the key, and intention. I know where to go - I have been there before."

Rand’s head whipped around to face her, surprise written all over his face, nearly knocking Mat’s head as he too turned to face her. The Aes Sedai did not seem to notice. "But one among us seeking glory, seeking to add his name to those four, and we may never find it though I take us straight to the spot I remember."

"You have seen the Green Man, Moiraine Sedai?" The Lord of Fal Dara sounded impressed, but in the next breath he frowned. "But if you have already met him once..."

"Need is the key," Moiraine said softly, "and there can be no greater need than mine. Than ours. And I have something those other seekers have not. "

Her eyes barely stirred from Agelmar's face, but Rand was sure they had drifted toward Loial, just for an instant before the Aes Sedai pulled them back. Rand met the Ogier's eyes, and Loial shrugged.

"Ta'veren," the Ogier said softly.

Mat quickly pulled away from Rand, the blanket over his fear being swept away. He unlinked their fingers, turning away. He didn’t want Agelmar to see them standing so… intimately. Surely what Loial had said would draw attention to them?

Agelmar threw up his hands. "It will be as you say, Aes Sedai. Peace, if the real battle is to be at the Eye of the World, I am tempted to take the Black Hawk banner after you instead of to the Gap. I could cut a path for you - "

"That would be disaster, Lord Agelmar. Both at Tarwin's Gap and at the Eye. You have your battle, and we ours."

"Peace! As you say, Aes Sedai."

Agelmar didn’t seem to like the decision they had come to, but put it out of his mind anyway. He invited them to eat with him, making conversation that seemed to intentionally miss the topic of anything discussed, like the Eye of the World or the Trollocs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be much of the same, but don't worry, we got some real storyline content coming up in a few chapters.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I had this chapter prepped and forgot to upload last night. High likelihood I'll be doing Sunday uploads, and I have a couple of chapters written and checked ready for upload, so consistent storyline update yay!

Mat quickly rose from where he leaned against the wall. They both trailed out once the others had left, throats burning in an effort to hold down the flowers.  
Rand bumped shoulders with Mat, holding out his hand. Mat glanced up ahead, to where Agelmar, Lan and Moiraine walked, deep in conversation. Surely they wouldn’t see the two of them, right?

He took Rand’s hand, swinging it childishly between them. Rand sent him a soft look, chuckling softly.

As they approached the chamber, Mat let go of Rand’s hand, taking a careful step away. He didn’t see the hurt written over his face.

The room was as plain his study had been, only the table and chairs decorating the room, besides a wide fireplace that warmed the room.

Throughout the meal, Agelmar and the others talked, mostly of books and music, while the Emond’s Fielder’s kept quiet. Mat would refuse to admit it, but he spent most of the time staring between his food and Rand, reminiscing the horseback meals.

Agelmar soon noticed the silence of the Two Rivers folk, gently probing them into the story of their travels. Mat was quick to answer, and soon found himself competing for speaking time against the others. Only Nynaeve stayed quiet, probably guarding her tongue. They only strayed from a few details, including the flowers, although talk of their separated travel was punctuated by Rand or Mat coughing.

“There’s a song in the Two Rivers,” Mat said excitedly, voice grating from talking. “Coming Home From Tarwin’s Gap.” He paused for a moment, unsure if he had overstepped from where they were meant to guard their tongues.

Agelmar continued, ignoring his sudden pause. “Little wonder. Few lands have not sent men to hold back the Blight over the years.”

He exchanged looks with Rand and Perrin, mouthing the word _Manetheren_.

As Agelmar beckoned one of the servants to speak, Rand stayed staring at Mat. Mat glanced over, entranced by the look Rand was giving him. Dishes clattered around them as the servants cleaned the tables. One servant stepped between them to clear their plates. Eye contact broken, Mat coughed as his face blushed red, cupping his fist around the flowers that tumbled out.

Agelmar gave them a strange look as both continued coughing, but ignored them in favour of directing the servants. They left, one returning with three clay pipes for the men, and a canister.

“Two Rivers tabac,” the Lord said. “Hard to come by, here, but worth the cost.”

The pipes were handed out, to Loial, Lan, and Agelmar himself, and soon all three men were puffing contentedly. Mat and Rand had since discretely locked hands under the table. Or at least, they thought they were discrete, while Perrin’s face across the table said otherwise.

“You seem troubled, Builder,” Agelmar said, glancing over to the Ogier. “Not beset by the Longing, I hope. How long have you been away from the stedding?”  
“It is not the Longing; I have not been gone such a time as that.” He shrugged, puffing rings out of the pipe. “I expected – hoped – that the grove would still be here. Some remnant of Mafal Dadaranell, at least.”

“_Kiserai ti Wansho,_” Agelmar said solemnly. “The Trolloc Wars left nothing but memories, Loial, son of Arent, and people to build on them. They could not duplicate the Builders’ work, anymore than could I. Those intricate curves and patterns your people create are beyond human eyes and hands to make. Perhaps we wished to avoid a poor imitation that would only have been an ever-present reminder to us of what we had lost. There is a different beauty in simplicity, in a single line placed just so, a single flower among the rocks.”

Both Mat and Rand coughed shallowly as he mentioned flowers. Agelmar was too enraptured by the conversation to pay them a glance.

“The harshness of the stone makes the flowers more precious. We try not to dwell too much on what is gone. The strongest heart will break under that strain.”

“The rose petal floats on water,” Lan recited softly. “The kingfisher flashes above the pond. Life and beauty swirl in the midst of death.”

“Yes,” Agelmar said. “That one has always symbolised the whole of it to me, too.” The two men bowed their heads at each other. Mat stared at them, confused by… whatever custom had just been fulfilled.

“Perhaps I also dwell too much on what is gone,” Loial said, nodding slowly. “And yet, the groves were beautiful.” He stared about the room, eyes warm as if appreciating a beauty he hadn’t seen before. Mat knew that look too well; it crossed his own face too much when Rand was around.

Ingtar appeared again, bowing to Agelmar. “Your pardon, Lord, but you wanted to know of anything out of the ordinary, however small.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“A small thing, Lord. A stranger tried to enter the town. Not of Shienar. By his accent, a Lugarder. Sometimes, at least. When the South Gate guards attempted to question him, he ran away. He was seen to enter the forest, but only a short time later he was found scaling the wall.”

“A small thing!” Agelmar stood, so quickly his chair looked like it would fall, but it only wobbled as it screeched across the ground. “Peace! The tower watch is so negligent a man can reach the walls unseen, and you call it a small thing?”

“He is a madman, Lord. The Light shields madmen. Perhaps the Light cloaked the tower watch’s eyes and allowed him to reach the walls.” A strange awe was woven into his words, and Mat resisted the urge to make a face. “Surely one poor madman can do no harm.”

“Has he been brought to the keep yet?” Ingtar shook his head. “Good. Bring him to me here. Now.” Ingtar bowed and left quickly. Agelmar turned to Moiraine. “Your pardon, Aes Sedai, but I must see to this. Perhaps he is only a pitiful wretch with his mind blinded by the Light, but. . . . Two days gone, five of our own people were found in the night trying to saw through the hinges of a horse-gate. Small, but enough to let Trollocs in.” He grimaced. “Darkfriends, I suppose, though I hate to think it of any Shienaran. They were torn to pieces by the people before the guards could take them, so I’ll never know. If Shienarans can be Darkfriends, I must be especially careful of outlanders in these days. If you wish to withdraw, I will have you shown to your rooms.”

“Darkfriends know neither border nor blood,” Moiraine said. “They are found in every land, and are of none. I, too, am interested in seeing this man. The Pattern is forming a Web, Lord Agelmar, but the final shape of the Web is not yet set. It may yet entangle the world, or unravel and set the Wheel to a new weaving. At this point, even small things can change the shape of the Web. At this point I am wary of small things out of the ordinary.”

“As you wish, Aes Sedai.” Mat wanted to laugh when he realised those words had been directed to Nynaeve and Egwene, as well as Moiraine. He would have, but he feared that would draw forth the garden gathering in the back of his throat. Mat had pretended not to notice, but Rand’s own flowers had slowly been pooling at his feet, as he discreetly pulled out handfuls, unable to keep them in his throat.

Ingtar returned, two guards with him, escorting a man who looked as if he were covered in a layer of grime. His uncut hair and beard hat matted together, dirt and filth covering his hair and face. Mat couldn’t help but gag from the smell wafting off the man, his strange nature making Mat suspicious of him. He seemed… familiar.

“The borderlands are a strange place to seek-”

Mat cut him off, unintentionally, realising who the man was under all the grime. “The peddler!”

“Padan Fain,” Perrin agreed, nodding.

“The beggar,” Rand said. His voice was somehow more hoarse than the flowers could make it. Mat squeezed his hand, watching fear creep over Rand’s face. “He’s the man who was asking about us in Caemlyn. He has to be.”

Mat stiffened, fear gripping him like a vice. He glared at Fain, hand reaching instinctually for his coat as anger overtook him as well. Rand’s hand rested on his elbow, trying to tug his hand from the dagger, but Mat refused to let go. Fain was a danger to Rand, to all of them!

“So this concerns you after all, Moiraine Sedai,” Agelmar said slowly.

Moiraine nodded. “I greatly fear that it does.”

“I didn’t want to.” Fain wailed, not even his tears making a dent in the layers of dirt caking his face. “He made me! Him and his burning eyes.” Rand flinched. Mat gripped the dagger tighter, ready to attack Fain if the opportunity came to him. “He made me his hound! His hound, to hunt and follow with never a bit of rest. Only his hound, even after he threw me away.”

“It does concern us all,” Moiraine said grimly. “Is there a place where I can talk with him alone, Lord Agelmar?” Her mouth tightened with distaste. “And wash him first. I may need to touch him.”

Agelmar nodded and beckoned to Ingtar, instructing him quietly. Ingtar bowed and dissapeared through the door.

“I will not be compelled!” Fain’s demeanor changed. He no longer cried, arrogance overtaking him. His stance had even changed, upright and proud, not hunched like before. He shouted at the ceiling, now. “Never again! I—will—not!” He turned to Agelmar as if he weren’t in his capture, but as if the Lord of Fal Dara were his equal. His tone became sleek and oily. “There is a misunderstanding here, Great Lord. I am sometimes taken by spells, but that will pass soon. Yes, soon I will be rid of them.” Contemptuously he flicked his fingers against the rags he wore. “Do not be misled by these, Great Lord. I have had to disguise myself against those who have tried to stop me, and my journey has been long and hard. But at last I have reached lands where men still know the dangers of Ba’alzamon, where men still fight the Dark One.”

The change in personality had shocked most of the Emond’s fielders. Rand goggled from beside him, and Mat had eased the dagger out his coat.  
“So you’ve come here because we fight Trollocs,” Agelmar said. “And you are so important that someone wants to stop you. These people say you are a peddler called Padan Fain, and that you are following them.”

Fain paused, hesitating. He looked over the group one at a time. His eyes shone with fear at Moiraine. Quickly, he turned back to Agelmar. “Padan Fain is simply one of the many disguises I have been forced to wear over the years. Friends of the Dark pursue me, for I have learned how to defeat the Shadow. I can show you how to defeat him, Great Lord.”

“We do as well as men can,” Agelmar said dryly. “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, but we have fought the Dark One almost since the Breaking of the World without peddlers to teach us how.”

“Great Lord, your might is unquestioned, but can it stand against the Dark One forever? Do you not often find yourself pressed to hold? Forgive my temerity, Great Lord; he will crush you in the end, as you are. I know; believe me, I do. But I can show you how to scour the Shadow from the land, Great Lord.” His tone became even more unctuous, though still haughty. “If you but try what I advise, you will see, Great Lord. You will cleanse the land. You, Great Lord, can do it, if you direct your might in the right direction. Avoid letting Tar Valon entangle you in its snares, and you can save the world. Great Lord, you will be the man remembered through history for bringing final victory to the Light.” The guards shifted uneasily, hands on their weapons, clearly worried Fain would try something.

Agelmar spoke to Lan over his shoulder. ”He thinks a great deal of himself for a peddler. I think Ingtar is right,” he said, turning back to Fain. “He is mad.”

Fain’s eyes turned angry, but he held his voice steady. “Great Lord, I know my words must appear grandiose, but if you will only-” he cut off abruptly, stepping back as quickly as he could, nearly tripping over his own feet, as Moiraine rose. She made her way around the table, slowly, and if not for the guards weapons, Fain would have backed right out of the room.

She stopped behind Mat’s chair, and leaned down to whisper to him. “You will be safe while I am here. He fears me more than the Dark One. You will both be safe.” Mat relaxed, glad that Moiraine had promised to protect Rand. She walked on, standing beside Agelmar, facing down Fain, who sank into a hunched position again.

Mat’s hand left the coat, turning to Rand. Rand’s concerned gaze slid over him, and Mat smiled shakily. Rand reached out and squeezed Mat’s hand, rubbing the tension from them, from gripping the dagger with a death-like grip.

“I hate him,” Fain whimpered, pleading to Moiraine. “I want to be free of him. I want to walk in the light again.” His shoulders shook, tears streaming down his cheeks again, heavy enough to shift some of the grime on his face. “He made me do it.”

“I am afraid he is more than a peddler, Lord Agelmar,” Moiraine said. “Less than human, worse than vile, more dangerous than you can imagine. He can be bathed after I have spoken with him. I dare not waste a minute. Come, Lan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no the angst is coming. I'm warning you all now.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance

Soon enough, everyone grew bored of waiting for Moiraine to come back. Rand had paced back and forth, counting under his breath. Mat had chewed his nails down so far they hurt, and had taken to throwing his dice between his hands.

Perrin had crushed a piece of bread, and now pushed the crumbs around with his fingers. Every now and again, Mat would look up and watching him, weary of his yellow eyes. Mat hadn’t even noticed that his own hands creeping toward his dagger every so often.

Finally, Loial asked one of the guards where he could find a library. The guard was surprised, but offered to take him there, and said he would fetch them as soon as Moiraine returned.

Mat couldn’t think of anything more boring to do while they waited. Rand, however, stopped pacing, rushing over to join Loial. Mat grumbled, then joined them. Libraries may be boring, but having Rand leave was going to be even more boring.

The two bookworms enthusiastically engaged in conversation on the walk, and Mat only cared when Loial mentioned their flowers.

“Perhaps, you will find something to help Mat and yourself with your flower disease.” Loial said as they entered the threshold of the library. “Perhaps some ancient text resides here.”

Rand lit up, grabbing Mat’s hand and practically dragging Mat with him, a hushed thanks thrown over his shoulder to Loial.

Mat watched as Rand searched the aisles of books, reaching dustier volumes, until the books seemed to be covered in dust nearly as thick as the grime that had covered Fain. Rand’s expression shifted with every row of books, from deep in thought to mesmerised by the covers that surrounded him.

Finally, with a triumphant noise that startled Mat, Rand found what he was looking for. He settled, cross-legged, onto the floor, turning up dust as he flicked through the pages. Mat sat with him, knees close as he basked in Rand’s presence. Mat leaned down, turning his head to glance at the cover. _A translation of Ta’veren Illness._

Rand flicked through pages, and Mat found himself drifting off. He shifted to lie down, and Rand moved the book to his other leg, allowing Mat to make a pillow of Rand’s thigh. Rand’s hand came to rest across Mat’s shoulders, lifting often when he scanned a passage with his fingers. Mat’s arms crossed over Rand’s leg, drooping in front of them.

Rand felt… so safe. Like nothing could go wrong as long as they were together. As long as he had Rand and Rand had him.

A few minutes later, Rand poked awake Mat excitedly. Mat sat up, slowly, rubbing his eyes and coughing, first softly and then intensely, as the dust set the flowers free from his throat. He hadn’t noticed the pile of green flowers that Rand had formed, until now.

Rand pointed wordlessly to the title, and Mat squinted to read it. _Hanahaki: coughing up flowers._

Mat chuckled as petals fell from his lips. What he would give to be free of this curse.

Rand flipped the pages, and Mat leaned on Rand again, resting his head on his shoulder, eyes following Rand’s hands as they delicately turned the pages, fingers following the lines as he skimmed them.

Rand halted. Mat sat up, as Rand inhaled sharply. A smile sprang across his face, and ecstatic, he turned to Mat, then looked back down at the passage his fingers had highlighted.

“Hanahaki is a strange condition, seen so rarely, because it only affects ta’veren. When they fall deeply in love, but are unable to express their feelings, it manifests as flowers, growing within their lungs…”

He trailed off, and turned to Mat, eyes sparkling as joy lit his face. _Of course, it all makes sense._ He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

Mat hadn’t seen Rand, eyes turned away to ponder what Rand had said.

“But,” Mat began, confusion echoing in his voice. “I’m not in love with anyone?” He chuckled, nervously.

Mat looked up as Rand went completely silent, and he could almost hear Rand’s heart shattering. Rand’s eyes, his gorgeous grey eyes, like the cloud covered moon that Mat had dreamed of in a haystack in a field, filled with tears. He coughed, shallowly.

And then he coughed, and coughed, and coughed. Green foxgloves, spilled between his lips, blood dripping as the lengths of flowers tore open his throat. He tucked his head between his knees, bringing them up as if he were trying to hide his face. He moved again, the flowers choking him as he sat like that. He hunched forward to spew the flowers rising up from him onto the floor.

Mat didn’t even feel the petals rising from his own throat until they tumbled from his lips.

And then he realised how wrong he was.

He was in love, so in love.

But surely he’d already destroyed it? So, he did the only thing he could, running, dodging between the rows of books, as his own emotional tears and cursed flowers left a trail behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was angst enough for you all  
Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter none-the-less, and I'll see you next week


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to upload Sunday.... ANYWAY
> 
> Everything between these lines is copied, no Cauthor content, so feel free to skip unless you want Lan’s backstory:  
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“Ah, Mat.” Loial said, as he saw him run into view. “I was just about to come find you. I found something that might be useful for your…” he trailed off, his booming voice halting as he saw the state Mat was in. “What happened?”

“It’s, um.. well, it’s,” Mat stumbled over his words, desperately trying to draw in enough air to speak. “Rand’s back in… in one of the rows o-over there. He… he can say it.” He slumped into one of the chairs, drawing his knees up to his chest, and bringing his hands up to his mouth. Loial left quickly.

With no one nearby, Mat sobbed as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to attract the attention of anyone.

What had he done?

Flowers began to pool around him, slicked with blood. Their red and gold colours almost seemed to taunt him.

Had he ruined… everything?

Light, he was so wrong, he was so in love.

With Rand.

What had he done?

Too many thoughts whirled through his head, too many for him to process. All he could think was how bloody terribly he had messed up.

He had to apologize to Rand, had to make him realise what he really felt. He stood, wiping the tears from his cheeks, stepping forward, about to run down the aisle, when someone ran into the library.

The guard looked puzzled as he saw Mat’s tear-streaked face, and the petals coating the room, but delivered his message anyway: “The Aes Sedai makes her way back to the room.”

“Light!” Mat groaned. He wanted to make amends! Then, he remembered the obviously baffled guard. “I mean, we’ll be there soon. I just have to… go get them…” he trailed off, then walked down the rows toward where Rand and Loial surely were.

He ran to them, his footsteps quickening as he got closer. He rounded the corner, to see Rand curled into a ball, in the corner. Tears ran down red cheeks, his eyes closed. His mouth dripped blood.

Loial saw him first, sitting on the floor, away from Rand’s flower pile, the book Rand had held cradled between his huge hands.

“What is it, Mat?” The look Loial gave him made guilt well up inside him even further. Rand’s head lifted and his eyes opened. He watched Mat, a combination of emotions on his face: anger, longing, fear, despair. Mat would do anything to ease the pain Rand felt.

Anything.

Instead, he turned back to Loial, unable to face Rand. “Moiraine is heading back.”

Loial stood, as quickly as an Ogier could, and held out a hand to Rand. Rand gratefully accepted it, pulling himself onto shaky legs. Mat quickly moved ahead, leading the way as the others hurried behind him.

In the hall of the library, Mat dropped back in line with them both, and the Ogier gave him a worried look. “Rand, I -”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he said flatly. “It’s fine, you made it clear how you feel.”

“But…” he trailed off as Rand moved away from him, changing to walk on Loial’s other side. The Ogier almost looked scared, caught between them. Mat sighed, head drooped forlornly, hand fidgeting as he longed to lock hands with Rand.

Back inside, Rand exchanged chairs with Perrin, who gave Mat a confused and concerned look as he sat beside him.  
Mat stared at the door, for what felt like forever. Surely it would’ve been long enough to apologize to Rand. _Where was she?_

“Blood and ashes!” Mat growled. “What’s taking her so long?” The guard had said she was on her way! His hand strayed to his coat, and without Rand’s hand to keep it back, he thumbed over the ruby hilt.

The Lord looked disapprovingly at Mat, ignoring his tear-streaked cheeks. His gaze washed over Perrin and Rand as well, expression only slightly changing as blood dripped from between Rand’s lips. Then he turned back to Nynaeve and Egwene, who stood with him by the fire, obviously having been in conversation before the three of them had returned.

“My Lord,” Egwene was saying, voice haughty like she had been using those titles since her birth, “I thought he was a Warder, but you call him Dai Shan, and talk about a Golden Crane banner, and so did those other men. Sometimes you sound almost as if he’s a king. I remember once Moiraine called him the last Lord of the Seven Towers. Who is he?”

All three boys turned, or rather, didn’t, toward the conversation, none wanting to be noticed eavesdropping.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

“Lord of the Seven Towers,” Agelmar said with a frown. “An ancient title, Lady Egwene. Not even the High Lords of Tear have older, though the Queen of Andor comes close.” He heaved a sigh, and shook his head. “He will not speak of it, yet the story is well known along the Border. He is a king, or should have been, al’Lan Mandragoran, Lord of the Seven Towers, Lord of the Lakes, crownless King of the Malkieri.” His shaven head lifted high, and there was a light in his eye as if he felt a father’s pride. His voice grew stronger, filled with the force of his feeling. The whole room could hear without straining. “We of Shienar call ourselves Bordermen, but fewer than fifty years ago, Shienar was not truly of the Borderlands. North of us, and of Arafel, was Malkier. The lances of Shienar rode north, but it was Malkier that held back the Blight. Malkier, Peace favor her memory, and the Light illumine her name.”

“Lan is from Malkier,” the Wisdom said softly, looking up. She seemed troubled. It was not a question, but Agelmar nodded. “Yes, Lady Nynaeve, he is the son of al’Akir Mandragoran, last crowned King of the Malkieri. How did he become as he is? The beginning, perhaps, was Lain. On a dare, Lain Mandragoran, the King’s brother, led his lances through the Blight to the Blasted Lands, perhaps to Shayol Ghul itself. Lain’s wife, Breyan, made that dare for the envy that burned her heart that al’Akir had been raised to the throne instead of Lain. The King and Lain were as close as brothers could be, as close as twins even after the royal ‘al’ was added to Akir’s name, but jealousy wracked Breyan. Lain was acclaimed for his deeds, and rightfully so, but not even he could outshine al’Akir. He was, man and king, such as comes once in a hundred years, if that. Peace favor him, and el’Leanna.

“Lain died in the Blasted Lands with most of those who followed him, men Malkier could ill afford to lose, and Breyan blamed the King, saying that Shayol Ghul itself would have fallen if al’Akir had led the rest of the Malkieri north with her husband. For revenge, she plotted with Cowin Gemallan, called Cowin Fairheart, to seize the throne for her son, Isam. Now Fairheart was a hero almost as well loved as al’Akir himself, and one of the Great Lords, but when the Great Lords had cast the rods for king, only two separated him from Akir, and he never forgot that two men laying a different color on the Crowning Stone would have set him on the throne instead. Between them, Cowin and Breyan moved soldiers back from the Blight to seize the Seven Towers, stripping the Borderforts to bare garrisons.

“But Cowin’s jealousy ran deeper.” Disgust tinged Agelmar’s voice. “Fairheart the hero, whose exploits in the Blight were sung throughout the Borderlands, was a Darkfriend. With the Borderforts weakened, Trollocs poured into Malkier like a flood. King al’Akir and Lain together might have rallied the land; they had done so before. But Lain’s doom in the Blasted Lands had shaken the people, and the Trolloc invasion broke men’s spirit and their will to resist. Too many men. Overwhelming numbers pushed the Malkieri back into the heartland.

“Breyan fled with her infant son Isam, and was run down by Trollocs as she rode south with him. No one knows their fate of a certainty, but it can be guessed. I can find pity only for the boy. When Cowin Fairheart’s treachery was revealed and he was taken by young Jain Charin—already called Jain Farstrider—when Fairheart was brought to the Seven Towers in chains, the Great Lords called for his head on a pike. But because he had been second only to al’Akir and Lain in the hearts of the people, the King faced him in single combat and slew him. Al’Akir wept when he killed Cowin. Some say he wept for a friend who had given himself to the Shadow, and some say for Malkier.” The Lord of Fal Dara shook his head sadly.

“The first peal of the doom of the Seven Towers had been struck. There was no time to gather aid from Shienar or Arafel, and no hope that Malkier could stand alone, with five thousand of her lances dead in the Blasted Lands, her Borderforts overrun.

“Al’Akir and his Queen, el’Leanna, had Lan brought to them in his cradle. Into his infant hands they placed the sword of Malkieri kings, the sword he wears today. A weapon made by Aes Sedai during the War of Power, the War of the Shadow that brought down the Age of Legends. They anointed his head with oil, naming him Dai Shan, a Diademed Battle Lord, and consecrated him as the next King of the Malkieri, and in his name they swore the ancient oath of Malkieri kings and queens.” Agelmar’s face hardened, and he spoke the words as if he, too, had sworn that oath, or one much similar. “To stand against the Shadow so long as iron is hard and stone abides. To defend the Malkieri while one drop of blood remains. To avenge what cannot be defended.” The words rang in the chamber.

“El’Leanna placed a locket around her son’s neck, for remembrance, and the infant, wrapped in swaddling clothes by the Queen’s own hand, was given over to twenty chosen from the King’s Bodyguard, the best swordsmen, the most deadly fighters. Their command: to carry the child to Fal Moran.

“Then did al’Akir and el’Leanna lead the Malkieri out to face the Shadow one last time. There they died, at Herat’s Crossing, and the Malkieri died, and the Seven Towers were broken. Shienar, and Arafel, and Kandor, met the Halfmen and the Trollocs at the Stair of Jehaan and threw them back, but not as far as they had been. Most of Malkier remained in Trolloc hands, and year by year, mile by mile, the Blight has swallowed it.” Agelmar drew a heavyhearted breath. When he went on, there was a sad pride in his eyes and voice.

“Only five of the Bodyguards reached Fal Moran alive, every man wounded, but they had the child unharmed. From the cradle they taught him all they knew. He learned weapons as other children learn toys, and the Blight as other children their mother’s garden. The oath sworn over his cradle is graven in his mind. There is nothing left to defend, but he can avenge. He denies his titles, yet in the Borderlands he is called the Uncrowned, and if ever he raised the Golden Crane of Malkier, an army would come to follow. But he will not lead men to their deaths. In the Blight he courts death as a suitor courts a maiden, but he will not lead others to it.

“If you must enter the Blight, and with only a few, there is no man better to take you there, nor to bring you safely out again. He is the best of the Warders, and that means the best of the best. You might as well leave these boys here, to gain a little seasoning, and put your entire trust in Lan. The Blight is no place for untried boys.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Mat went to speak, to tell him that they had went through much more than he thought of them, but Rand sent him a withering glare that made him sink back in his chair. He never wanted Rand to look at him like that again. Oh Light, what had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww yeah angst. I hope you all enjoy the torture I put you through :D


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol forgot to upload. ANyway it's here now :D
> 
> Honestly, I was gonna attach this chapter to the last one, but I had to use the line thing again. From the line, I have copied the text, and added little angsty Cauthor moments within it. There’s no huge storyline progression, I’ll save that for later, but if you’re down for a bunch of angst, look for the spaced sections.
> 
> More angst for your reading pleasure. I hope everyone is doing well, remember to drink some water please

Moiraine appeared in the doorway, distracting Mat from his thinking. Lan was close on her heels, and the three boys stood, eager to hear what was she found.

“What did he say?” Rand said, wiping blood from his lips as his scratchy words provoked his throat.

“Country oaf,” Agelmar muttered. He turned to Moiraine, voice raised to a pleasant tone. “Did you learn anything, Aes Sedai, or is he simply a madman?”

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“He is mad,” Moiraine said, “or close to it, but there is nothing simple about Padan Fain.” One of the black-and-gold-liveried servants bowed his way in with a blue washbasin and pitcher, a bar of yellow soap, and a small towel on a silver tray; he looked anxiously at Agelmar. Moiraine directed him to put them on the table. “Your pardon for commanding your servants, Lord Agelmar,” she said. “I took the liberty of asking for this.”

Agelmar nodded to the servant, who put the tray on the table and left hurriedly. “My servants are yours to command, Aes Sedai.” The water Moiraine poured into the basin steamed as if only just off the boil. She pushed up her sleeves and began vigorously washing her hands without regard for the heat of the water. “I said he was worse than vile, but I did not come close. I do not believe I have ever met someone so abject and debased, yet at the same time so foul. I feel soiled from touching him, and I do not mean for the filth on his skin. Soiled in here.” She touched her breast. “The degradation of his soul almost makes me doubt he has one. There is something worse to him than a Darkfriend.”

“He looked so pitiful,” Egwene murmured. “I remember him arriving in Emond’s Field each spring, always laughing and full of news from outside. Surely there’s some hope for him? ‘No man can stand in the Shadow so long that he cannot find the Light again,’ ” she quoted.

The Aes Sedai toweled her hands briskly. “I have always believed it so,” she said. “Perhaps Padan Fain can be redeemed. But he has been a Darkfriend more than forty years, and what he has done for that, in blood and pain and death, would freeze your heart to hear. Among the least of these —though not small to you, I suspect—he brought the Trollocs to Emond’s Field.”

“Yes,” Rand said softly. He heard Egwene gasp. _I should have guessed. Burn me, I should have, as soon as I recognized him. Maybe if I wasn’t so distracted by… Maybe I would have realised sooner._

“Did he bring any here?” Mat asked. He looked around at the stone walls, shivering. Light, how he wanted to lean back into Rand’s warmth. Rand would protect him from the Fades. Rand would keep him safe, and he could keep Rand safe. Or he could have once, if he didn’t… mess it all up.

“If he did”—Agelmar laughed—“they’ll break their teeth on the walls of Fal Dara. Many others have before.” He was speaking to everyone, but obviously addressing his words to Egwene and Nynaeve, from the glances he gave them. “And do not worry yourself about Halfmen, either.” Mat’s face reddened. “Every street and alley in Fal Dara is lit by night. And no man may hide his face inside the walls.”

“Why would Master Fain do that?” Egwene asked.

“Three years ago. . . .” With a heavy sigh Moiraine sat down, folding up as if what she had done with Fain had drained her. “Three years, this summer. As far back as that. The Light surely favors us, else the Father of Lies would have triumphed while I still sat planning in Tar Valon. Three years, Fain has been hunting you for the Dark One.”

“That’s crazy!” Rand said. “He’s come into the Two Rivers every spring as regular as a clock. Three years? We’ve been right there in front of him, and he never looked at any of us twice before last year.”

Three years. Would these… feelings have still happened if they hadn’t been uprooted from their homes? In some twisted way, did he have Fain to thank, or curse, for Rand’s grip on his heart? He stifled a small chuckle behind his hand, and flinched when Rand saw him, eyes wide as Rand glared.

The Aes Sedai pointed a finger at Rand, fixing him. “Fain told me everything, Rand. Or almost everything. I believe he managed to hold back something, something important, despite all I could do, but he said enough. Three years ago, a Halfman came for him in a town in Murandy. Fain was terrified, of course, but it is considered a very great honor among Darkfriends to be so summoned. Fain believed he had been chosen for great things, and he had, though not in the manner he believed. He was brought north to the Blight, to the Blasted Lands. To Shayol Ghul. Where he met a man with eyes of fire, who named himself Ba’alzamon.”

Mat shifted uneasily, and Rand swallowed hard. It had to have been that way, of course, but that did not make it any easier to accept. Only Perrin looked at the Aes Sedai as if nothing could surprise him any longer.

“The Light protect us,” Agelmar said fervently.

“Fain did not like what was done to him at Shayol Ghul,” Moiraine continued calmly. “While we talked, he screamed often of fire and burning. It almost killed him, bringing it all out from where he had it hidden. Even with my Healing he is a shattered ruin. It will take much to make him whole again. I will make the effort, though, if for no other reason than to learn what more he still hides. He had been chosen because of where he did his peddling. No,” she said quickly when they stirred, “not the Two Rivers only, not then. The Father of Lies knew roughly where to find what he sought, but not much better than we in Tar Valon.

“Fain said he has been made the Dark One’s hound, and in a way he is right. The Father of Lies set Fain to hunt, first changing him so he could carry out that hunt. It is the things done to bring about those changes that Fain fears to remember; he hates his master for them as much as he fears him. So Fain was sent sniffing and hunting through all the villages around Baerlon, and all the way to the Mountains of Mist, and down to the Taren and across into the Two Rivers.”

“Three springs ago?” Perrin said slowly. “I remember that spring. Fain came later than usual, but what was strange was that he lingered on. A whole week he remained, idle and gnashing his teeth about laying out money for a room at the Winespring Inn. Fain likes his money.”

“I remember, now,” Mat said. “Everybody was wondering was he sick, or had he fallen for a local woman?-” Now, he understood why he would have stayed. Before it seemed a ridiculous idea, giving up everything for love. “-Not that any of them would marry a peddler, of course. As well marry one of the Traveling People.” Egwene raised an eyebrow at him, and he shut his mouth.

“After that, Fain was taken to Shayol Ghul again, and his mind was—distilled.” Rand’s stomach turned over at the tone in the Aes Sedai’s voice; it told more of what she meant than the grimace that flashed across her face. “What he had . . . sensed . . . was concentrated and fed back. When he entered the Two Rivers the next year, he was able to choose his targets out more clearly. Indeed, more clearly even than the Dark One had expected. Fain knew for a certainty that the one he sought was one of three in Emond’s Field.”

Perrin grunted, and Mat began cursing in a soft monotone that even Nynaeve’s glare did not stop. Agelmar looked at them curiously. Rand felt only the faintest chill, and wondered at it. Three years the Dark One had been hunting him . . . hunting them. He was sure it should have made his teeth chatter.

Moiraine did not allow Mat to interrupt her. She raised her voice enough to be heard over him. “When Fain returned to Lugard, Ba’alzamon came to him in a dream. Fain abased himself and performed rites that would strike you deaf to hear the half of them, binding himself even more tightly to the Dark One. What is done in dreams can be more dangerous than what is done awake.” Rand stirred at the sharp, warning look, but she did not pause. “He was promised great rewards, power over kingdoms after Ba’alzamon’s victory, and told that when he returned to Emond’s Field he was to mark the three he had found. A Halfman would be there, waiting for him with Trollocs. We know now how the Trollocs came to the Two Rivers. There must have been an Ogier grove and a Waygate at Manetheren.”

“The most beautiful of all,” Loial said, “except for Tar Valon.” He had been listening as intently as everyone else. “Manetheren is remembered fondly by the Ogier.” Agelmar formed the name silently, his eyebrows raised in wonder. Manetheren.

“Lord Agelmar,” Moiraine said, “I will tell you how to find the Waygate of Mafal Dadaranell. It must be walled up and a guard set, and none allowed near. The Halfmen have not learned all of the Ways yet, but that Waygate is to the south and only hours from Fal Dara.”

The Lord of Fal Dara gave himself a shake, as if he were coming out of a trance. “South? Peace! We don’t need that, the Light shine on us. It shall be done.”

“Did Fain follow us through the Ways?” Perrin asked.

Mat grimaced, wanting to wish he was back in the Ways. Not that they had been good but… at least Rand didn’t hate him there.

_With a clatter, both lanterns hit the ground, as Rand leant as far out of the saddle as he could to catch Mat before he would hit the ground. His arms wrapped around his falling friend, hooking around his chest and pulling him up. Mat felt the soles of his boots graze the ground as he was pulled upright, against the heaving side of the horse. He could feel Rand’s breath against his hair: he felt safe wrapped in Rand’s arms._

_Over him, Rand gasped and lowered Mat toward the ground. Mat turned to thank Rand, words lost as he saw the fear and concern traced through his being. Rand was still tilted out of the saddle, arms out like he feared Mat would fall again. Considering how often it had happened, Mat wouldn’t be surprised if he did fall again. The trickle of blood from Rand’s mouth fell onto stained sleeves, as his eyes shone with an emotion Mat couldn’t place._

_Mat watched, in an almost open-mouthed shock, as Rand held out a hand, urging Mat closer. His hand caressed Mat’s jawline, tilting his chin as he leaned further forward. Mat watched Rand’s lips, the way they parted softly, Rand’s soft breath on his cheeks as Mat stepped closer._

Mat gulped as he remembered that, wishing Nynaeve hadn’t interrupted them. Maybe he would have realised sooner, and he wouldn’t have hurt Rand today because he would have known. If only.

“He must have done.” Perrin said.

Moiraine nodded. “Fain would follow you three into the grave, because he must. When the Myrddraal failed at Emond’s Field, it brought Fain with the Trollocs on our trail. The Fade would not let Fain ride with him; although he thought he should have the best horse in the Two Rivers and ride at the head of the band, the Myrddraal forced him to run with the Trollocs, and the Trollocs to carry him when his feet gave out. They talked so that he could understand, arguing about the best way to cook him when his usefulness was done. Fain claims he turned against the Dark One before they reached the Taren. But sometimes his greed for his promised rewards seeps into the open.

“When we had escaped across the Taren the Myrddraal took the Trollocs back to the closest Waygate, in the Mountains of Mist, and sent Fain across alone. He thought he was free then, but before he reached Baerlon another Fade found him, and that one was not so kind. It made him sleep doubled up on himself in a Trolloc kettle at night, to remind him of the price of failure. That one used him as far as Shadar Logoth. By then Fain was willing to give the Myrddraal his mother if it would free him, but the Dark One never willingly loosens a hold he has gained.

“What I did there, sending an illusion of our tracks and smell off toward the mountains, fooled the Myrddraal, but not Fain. The Halfmen did not believe him; afterward, they dragged him behind them on a leash. Only when we seemed to keep always just ahead, no matter how hard they pressed, did some begin to credit him. Those were the four who returned to Shadar Logoth. Fain claims it was Ba’alzamon himself who drove the Myrddraal.”

Agelmar shook his head contemptuously. “The Dark One? Pah! The man’s lying or mad. If Heartsbane were loose, we’d all of us be dead by now, or worse.”  
“Fain spoke the truth as he saw it,” Moiraine said. “He could not lie to me, though he hid much. His words. ‘Ba’alzamon appeared like a flickering candle flame, vanishing and reappearing, never in the same place twice. His eyes seared the Myrddraal, and the fires of his mouth scourged us.’ ”

“_Something_,” Lan said, “drove four Fades to where they feared to go—a place they fear almost as much as they fear the wrath of the Dark One.”  
Agelmar grunted as if he had been kicked; he looked sick.

“It was evil against evil in the ruins of Shadar Logoth,” Moiraine continued, “foul fighting vile. When Fain spoke of it, his teeth chattered and he whimpered. Many Trollocs were slain, consumed by Mashadar and other things, including the Trolloc that held Fain’s leash. He fled the city as if it were the Pit of Doom, at Shayol Ghul.

“Fain believed he was free at last. He intended to run until Ba’alzamon could never find him again, to the ends of the earth if necessary. Imagine his horror when he discovered that the compulsion to hunt did not lessen. Instead, it grew stronger and sharper with every day that passed. He could not eat, except what he could scavenge while he hunted you—beetles and lizards snatched while he ran, half-rotten refuse dug from midden heaps in the dark of night—nor could he stop until exhaustion collapsed him like an empty sack. And as soon as he had strength to stand again, he was driven on. By the time he reached Caemlyn he could feel his quarry even when it was a mile away. Here, in the cells below, he would sometimes look up without realizing what he was doing. He was looking in the direction of this room.”

Caemlyn. Mat had only whisps of memory surrounding Caemlyn.

_An alleyway._

_Rand grabbed Mat’s collar, jerked the smaller boy out of his self-pity, Mat pulled up to his tip-toes to match the height he was pulled to. Rand leaned down, faces so close their noses almost touched. Mat looked up with worry, hands reached up to pull Rand off him. At any other situation, he would’ve had a witty reply, a way to brush off Rand’s reaction. Instead he stared, eyes tracing Rand’s lips up to his clouded eyes._

“If Fain was half mad by the time he reached Caemlyn, he sank even further when he realized that only two of those he sought were there. He was compelled to find all of you, but he could do no other than follow the two who were there, either. He spoke of screaming when the Waygate opened in Caemlyn. The knowledge of how to do it was in his mind; he does not know how it came there; his hands moved of their own accord, burning with the fires of Ba’alzamon when he tried to stop them. The owner of the shop, who came to investigate the noise, Fain murdered. Not because he had to, but out of envy that the man could walk freely out of the cellar while his feet carried him inexorably into the Ways.”

“Then Fain was the one you sensed following us,” Egwene said. Lan nodded. “How did he escape the . . . the Black Wind?” Her voice shook; she stopped to swallow. “It was right behind us at the Waygate.”

“He escaped, and he did not,” Moiraine said. “The Black Wind caught him—and he claimed to understand the voices. Some greeted him as like to them; others feared him. No sooner did the Wind envelop Fain than it fled.”

“The Light preserve us.” Loial’s whisper rumbled like a giant bumblebee.

“Pray that it does,” Moiraine said. “There is much yet hidden about Padan Fain, much I must learn. The evil goes deeper in him, and stronger, than in any man I have yet seen. It maybe that the Dark One, in doing what he did to Fain, impressed some part of himself on the man, perhaps even, unknowing, some part of his intent. When I mentioned the Eye of the World, Fain clamped his jaws shut, but I felt something knowing behind the silence. If only I had the time now. But we cannot wait.”

“If this man knows something,” Agelmar said, “I can get it out of him.” His face held no mercy for Darkfriends; his voice promised no pity for Fain. “If you can learn even a part of what you will face in the Blight, it’s worth an extra day. Battles have been lost for not knowing what the enemy intends.”

Moiraine sighed and shook her head ruefully. “My lord, if we did not need at least one good night’s sleep before facing the Blight, I would ride within the hour, though it meant the risk of meeting a Trolloc raid in the dark. Consider what I did learn from Fain. Three years ago the Dark One had to have Fain brought to Shayol Ghul to touch him, despite the fact that Fain is a Darkfriend dedicated to his marrow. One year ago, the Dark One could command Fain, the Darkfriend, through his dreams. This year, Ba’alzamon walks in the dreams of those who live in the Light, and actually appears, if with difficulty, at Shadar Logoth. Not in his own body, of course, but even a projection of the Dark One’s mind, even a projection that flickers and cannot hold, is more deathly dangerous to the world than all the Trolloc hordes combined. The seals on Shayol Ghul are weakening desperately, Lord Agelmar. There is no time.”

Agelmar bowed his head in acquiescence, but when he raised it again there was still a stubborn set to his mouth. “Aes Sedai, I can accept that when I lead the lances to Tarwin’s Gap we will be no more than a diversion, or a skirmish on the outskirts of the real battle. Duty takes men where it will as surely as does the Pattern, and neither promises that what we do will have greatness. But our skirmish will be useless, even should we win, if you lose the battle. If you say your party must be small, I say well and good, but I beg you to make every effort to see that you can win. Leave these young men here, Aes Sedai. I swear to you that I can find three experienced men with no thought of glory in their heads to replace them, good swordsmen who are almost as handy in the Blight as Lan. Let me ride to the Gap knowing that I have done what I can to help you be victorious.”

“I must take them and no others, Lord Agelmar,” Moiraine said gently. “They are the ones who will fight the battle at the Eye of the World.”

Agelmar’s jaw dropped, and he stared at Rand and Mat and Perrin. Suddenly the Lord of Fal Dara took a step back, his hand groping unconsciously for the sword he never wore inside the fortress. “They aren’t. . . . You are not Red Ajah, Moiraine Sedai, but surely not even you would. . . .” Sudden sweat glistened on his shaven head.

“They are ta’veren,” Moiraine said soothingly. “The Pattern weaves itself around them. Already the Dark One has tried to kill each of them more than once. Threeta’veren in one place are enough to change the life around them as surely as a whirl pool changes the path of a straw. When the place is the Eye of the World, the Pattern might weave even the Father of Lies into itself, and make him harmless again.”

Agelmar stopped trying to find his sword, but he still looked at Rand and the others doubtfully. “Moiraine Sedai, if you say they are, then they are, but I cannot see it. Farmboys. Are you certain, Aes Sedai?”

“The old blood,” Moiraine said, “split out like a river breaking into a thousand times a thousand streams, but sometimes streams join together to make a river again. The old blood of Manetheren is strong and pure in almost all these young men. Can you doubt the strength of Manetheren’s blood, Lord Agelmar?”

Rand glanced sideways at the Aes Sedai. Almost all. He risked a look at Nynaeve; she had turned back to watch as well as listen, though she still avoided looking at Lan. He caught the Wisdom’s eye. She shook her head; she had not told the Aes Sedai that he was not Two Rivers born. _What does Moiraine know?_

“Manetheren,” Agelmar said slowly, nodding. “I would not doubt that blood.” Then, more quickly, “The Wheel brings strange times. Farmboys carry the honor of Manetheren into the Blight, yet if any blood can strike a fell blow at the Dark One, it would be the blood of Manetheren. It shall be done as you wish, Aes Sedai.”

“Then let us go to our rooms,” Moiraine said. “We must leave with the sun, for time grows short. The young men must sleep close to me. Time is too short before the battle to allow the Dark One another strike at them. Too short.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Her eyes swept across them all. She was right. Time was too short. He was running out of time to make amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love flashbacks, it's a writing technique that's just really enjoyable. I tend to use similar moments, for example I know I used the alleyway for a chapter a while ago, because it just emphasises how much the character remembers it.
> 
> Anyway, fingers crossed for next week's upload to be out on time. Have a good week!


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload guys! Last week I was on holidays, no internet :(  
This week, I was busy and forgot, until _fangirl from one dimension to the left_ commented and I got an alert for it. Go say your thanks in the comments everyone XD (personal thank you for leaving the comment, I totally forgot) Also thank you to everyone who does comment. The comments fill me with such joy and when I get down while writing I tend to come back and look over them because this fandom is so great.
> 
> Anyway,  
There’s a Wheel of Time song mentioned in this! If you want to hear it as the boys do, here’s a link, it’ll be played once Mat hears the flute (sounds cryptic; just trust me):  
[The song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=unzSe-36sSE)  
Also check my author’s notes at the bottom for crediting and all that important stuff.

Lord Agelmar called for servants to take them to their rooms. Despite the numerous rooms in the palace, the three Emond’s Field boys had been put together, likely at Moiraine’s request.

In the hall as they walked, Mat made numerous attempts to talk to Rand.

Rand walked at the back, deep in thought. Mat matched pace with him, and brushed their fingers together, just as he always did before grabbing his hand. Rand jerked back as if he’d been burnt, then moved to keep pace with the others. Neither of them saw the tears forming in each other’s eyes, but they both heard each other cough.

Mat stopped walking, leaning down to look at one of Rand’s flowers. Green foxglove. Mat wished he knew a little more about the flower meanings. Maybe it meant something about him? Maybe Egwene would know.

He ran to keep up with the others.

\---

He touched Rand’s shoulder, trying get him to stop. Maybe if they just walked together they could talk. “Please, Rand, I-”

“Go. Away.”

Mat recoiled, pausing in the hall. Rand was angry. And Mat never wanted Rand to be angry at him ever again, not with how much it clearly hurt him. Rand’s flowers left behind were tinged with blood, and his own were starting to feel like they were cutting up his throat.

\---

In a last attempt, he walked alongside Rand.

Didn’t move to touch him. Didn’t speak. He just kept his head down, trying to ignore how it felt like someone had taken his ruby-hilted dagger and shoved it into his chest, twisting until it found his heart. And then twisting more.

Rand moved, walking on the other side of Perrin instead, voice straining as he desperately tried to keep up the conversation.

Mat’s flowers left their own bloody trail now.

\---

Their belongings had already been delivered to the room. Three beds, against one wall, filled the wide space. Their bags sat at the foot of each, Rand’s and Mat’s, ironically, side-by-side. Perrin’s was beside the door, and he looked thankful for that.

Rand and Perrin went straight to their bags, but Mat hung at the closed door. He just, desperately, wanted to fix what he had done. He didn’t care if Rand didn’t… love him anymore. He just didn’t want him to hate him.

He sighed, quietly, feeling as if he didn’t have the strength to try to make things better yet. Maybe Rand just needed time before he would let Mat talk to him?

Instead, he sat on his own bed. He didn’t dare watch Rand, so he laid back, closing his eyes. Maybe it was all a dream, he just had to wake up and it would be better. Ha, if the Light had somehow blessed him.

Mat could almost feel himself drifting off, only his ruminating thoughts keeping him awake. Until soft, musical notes filled the air. Mat heard Perrin still from beside him. Mat quickly sat up, watching Rand with wide eyes.

Rand’s eyes were closed, and he mostly turned away from them. Thom’s flute, held in trembling hands, was pressed to Rand’s lips.

Mat placed the tune rather quickly. _Will You Dance With Me?_

The first lines were unsteady, with a few misplaced notes that Mat didn’t notice. Rand did, silently cursing himself for it.

After a few lines, Mat began humming softly, following the tune. Rand faltered, opening his eyes in shock. Mat met his gaze, keeping the tune, humming louder. Rand turned back away, closing his eyes, and picking up the tune again.

Perrin quietly excused himself from the room, already sensing the building tension. Not that either of them noticed him leave.

Mat leant back, against the wall, allowing himself to sing the words quietly, not wanting to lose the flute behind his own voice.

“…but it's you I want to hold.”

Rand’s playing, again, faltered for a moment. Then, he played louder, letting Mat sing to him.

“What he said to me,  
You're all that I can see.  
The fairest of them all I do believe  
The dimples in your cheeks,  
as cute as one can be.  
He bowed and whispered,-“ Mat’s voice dipped to match the lyrics  
“-will you dance with me?”

He picked up volume again.  
“I'll dance with a girl in rain or shine  
I'll dance in sleet or snow  
I'll dance with a girl, any weather, any time  
but it's your dance that I would like to know

I'll kiss a girl that towers high  
or a girl I must kneel to meet  
I'll kiss a girl of any varied height  
but it's your kiss that taste so sweet.  
What he said to me,  
You're all that I can see…” Mat trailed off, voice gradually quieting to let the flute finish the last few lines.

As Rand brought the flute down from his lips, Mat turned his head away, not wanting to face him as he did. He talked flatly, trying not to let Rand hear the emotion in his voice.

“I would have, but you wouldn’t even let me talk to you.”

“I-” Rand’s cracked voice broke the quiet surrounding them. “You-. What?”

Mat spoke louder, still turned away. “I said I would have, you woolhead, but you wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“You would have… done what?” Rand asked, genuinely confused.

Mat turned to him, crossing the distance until he was in front of Rand. “Danced with you! You couldn’t just pick a random bloody song; you picked that one.”

_ The Bell Tine festival cheered in the distance, as a young Rand and Mat sat in a tree, having escaped the festivities with stolen sugary treats.  
The villagers took up a round of Will You Dance With Me? They sang loudly enough that Mat could pick out each individual’s voice._

_“Rand, if I’m ever foolish enough to settle down with a girl, I'll blame it on this song." He paused, peering up at Rand. Then, with a sigh, "Can you imagine?”_

_Rand giggled, the sugar rushing through his system. “No, I can’t imagine the great Matrim Cauthon, ever settling down to marry a woman. Your mother said that, just the other night!”_

Rand stood, so close their shoulders brushed. “It’s not my fault you ran off!” Rand exploded.

“Well it’s not my fault you found that Light cursed book.”

“You didn’t have to come to the library with us, I know you don’t care for books.”

“It was far better than being bored to death watching Perrin with his bloody crumbs!”

“Blood and bloody ashes; I’m so sorry you didn’t take it so well what the flowers really meant.”

“I was confused! How was I supposed to know I’m in love with you!?” Mat went wide-eyed, and turned away, red burning his face.

“What- what does… What is that supposed to mean!?” The anger left in Rand’s voice seeming only residual at this point.

“Forget it, I don’t even deserve you after what I did.” Mat dropped onto the bed, ignoring Rand as best as he could. He noticed that Perrin was gone from the room. At least he wouldn't have to deal with them...

A feeling of flowers rose in his throat, and he missed what Rand started to say as he started to cough hideously.

Rand sat beside him, and Mat blearily recognised he was trying to talk to him, as he bent over on all fours, struggling to breathe as his lungs seemed intent of emptying their intrusive content.

Blood dripped through the flowers, and Mat felt a bucket be pushed into his hands. He let himself throw up, filling up the bucket with flowers. His own little garden.  
Finally, after what felt like forever, with blood and petals dripping from his lips, he sat up, gasping for air. He pulled the last few flowers from his throat, then drew in air. A smile cracked his face, and he felt giddy, finally able to breathe after so long. He coughed, breathing deeper.

He hadn’t realised how much the flowers had restricted his breathing until now. He flopped back onto his bed, head in Rand’s lap, giggling slightly.

“Mat?” Rand said.

“I love you,” Mat said softly, the realisation hitting him.

“But- I-”

Mat cut him off. “Just say it, quickly, it’ll get rid of them.”

“Mat, you can’t just tell me you love me and then think it’s all better.” Rand said angrily. Then he coughed in his sleeve, saving Mat from the blood that dripped from his cracked lips. Very kissable lips.

“Rand.” He reached up, holding onto his cheeks tenderly. “My flowers are gone.”

Mat watched as Rand’s face changed, deep in thought, in his internal monologue. Understanding flashed through his eyes, his… wonderful eyes.

“I love you?” he whispered, barely audibly enough for Mat to hear. Mat felt a warmth rush through him. Then he quickly moved, reaching for the bucket. He thrust it into Rand’s hands, then moved around to thump him on the back, trying to help him heave up the roots and bundles of foxglove from his lungs.

Mat took the gross bucket from Rand’s hands as soon as he came back up, gasping for air. Mat set it on the floor, watching Rand carefully. His chest heaved in an effort to fill his lungs.

He expected Rand to still be mad at him. What he didn’t expect, was for Rand to grab him by the collar, pulling Mat down onto the bed, bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss. Their teeth clattered, and Mat gasped in pain as he hit his knees on the bed and his face on Rand’s.  
Their eyes fluttered shut. Sparks shot through him from the contact, settling in his chest. Warmth rushed through him, as he tilted his head to kiss Rand as closely as he could. His senses were fully absorbed in everything that was Rand, and Mat threw his arms over Rand’s shoulders, shifting to sit in his lap and pulling Rand as close as he could.

Gasping for air, the two of them pulled apart, heaving. How had he not noticed how much the flowers had devoured the space in his lungs?

“I love you,” Rand whispered. Mat stilled, watching the way Rand’s lips moved as he spoke. He slowly lifted his hand, caressing Rand’s jawline, tilting his head again to lean forward. He watched Rand’s eyes. They shone the same grey as the moon, shining bright as it was above them. Inside them, specks of blue and green and brown sparkled, like… the sea on a bright night. They were… incredible.

Slowly, Mat brought their lips close again. His arm slipped back over Rand’s shoulder, sitting up more so he was leaning down over him. Softly their lips brushed together, almost as if they were now scared of hurting each other. Rand’s lips parted softly, eyes half closed as he tried to watch Mat’s lips.

“I hope you are both done with -” The door sprang open and Perrin entered, grumbling. Until he saw Mat and Rand, entangled in each other. They pulled apart as quickly as they could, tripping over each other. Rand’s head hit the wall, and Mat fell across his bed, head tipped over the end of it.

Both of them burned with embarrassment, intensified as they heard the door close, and laughter begin. Carefully, they untangled themselves, staring at Perrin.  
He fell against the door, laughter evolving into noisy gasps as he struggled for air.

It seemed like minutes, with Rand and Mat staring in confusion, before Perrin regained enough ability to speak again.

“You both- you- you,” he cut off, laughing too hard again. “You… should’ve seen your faces… it was like… if Ny… Nynaeve… had walked in and promised to… have your hides!” He laughed again, clutching his stomach.

Both Rand and Mat went to speak, mouths opening and closing like stunned fish.

“Light, it took you too long!”

Now, both of them spoke over each other, halting when Perrin shushed them.

“You didn’t even lock the door! Who knows what a poor maid would have walked in on if I didn’t open the door when I did,” Perrin laughed again.

“Wait, you aren’t…” Rand started, “… um…” he seemed stuck for words.

Perrin stood slowly, grasping his bed for support. “I don’t care about you two. Well, actually, I’m glad it finally happened, watching you two dance around each other was painful.”

He turned away, finally. “Well uh, we have a long ride tomorrow, I’ll… be heading off to bed now.” Perrin fussed about with his clothes, leaving Mat and Rand to do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eveyone go thank _fangirl from one dimension to the left_ in the comments....
> 
> Ok I’m gonna quickly say: the song mentioned, I spent like twenty minutes on the wiki trying to find one. I was going to use I’m Down at the Bottom of the Well, but it didn’t fit at all. This song, Will You Dance With Me was sung in the later books, but Mat identifies it by a different name, so I guessed he would know it already.
> 
> Just to quickly give credit, Robert Jordan wrote a couple of lines, and the lovely folks from Reflections of Sound Music created more. I used their lyrics, and if any of them contact me saying I should not be using these lines, I’ll take them down. I found it really helpful having that song going while I wrote, so feel free to check them out on Youtube :D
> 
> Lol catch my Insomnia_Productions references (I’m sorry, I really loved their moon eyes description)


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice short chapter :D  
I need to stop going on holidays without posting.... so heres a friday night, "i just got back" quick upload

The three boys prepared their night clothes, ready to change once the lights went out. Not that they hadn’t changed in front of each other before, but it was… different now.

Perrin extinguished the last light, cursing as he accidently kicked something on his walk back to his bed. The room was silent save for the rustling of clothes as the three of them undressed, and started to redress.

Mat paused, mostly redressed except for his shirt. He turned towards Rand. The other was so close, Mat could almost feel his warmth from where he stood. Slowly, he stepped towards him, an arm out so Rand would know he had moved. He couldn’t see without the light, but he had a vague idea of where to reach.

His hand connected softly with Rands shoulder, and Rand paused, turning toward Mat. Wordlessly, Mat moved closer, tenderly pulling Rand towards him. He rested his head against Rand’s bare chest, wrapping his arms around his torso, tilting his head to hear Rand’s heart beating. Rand’s hands settled in his hair, carding the strands between his fingers.

Cold started to set in, and Mat shivered. Rand grabbed his hands, pulling him towards his bed. He felt for the covers, pulling them both underneath. Mat moved close as he could, desperately clutching Rand.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, not wanting to disturb Perrin.

“What? Why?” Rand said softly, running a hand softly through Mat’s hair again. His other arm draped over Mat’s waist, tracing invisible lines on his back.

“For making you upset. I don’t want you to be mad at me again.” He dipped his head further, not that he could really move any further. And, not that Rand would see the flush over his face.

The fingers stilled in his hair. “I won’t be.” Rand promised. Then, quietly chuckling, he said: “Unless you do something really woolheaded, like running off again.”

A smile cracked Mat’s face, and the fingers in his hair resumed their pace. Mat reached up to trace Rand’s features, two fingers resting gently on Rand’s lips. He shifted up, pressing their lips together again. Rand’s lips parted for him, and Mat felt like he would drown in the warmth that overtook him.

After a short moment, Perrin spoke. “The birds sure are loud tonight,” Perrin said sarcastically. Mat pulled back from Rand. “Light, let a man get his sleep.”

“You can’t see me right now, but I’m making a… rude gesture in your direction.” Mat taunted.

“Oh, Light, he has struck me down with his words,” Perrin chuckled.

Mat turned back to Rand, settling into the crook of his arm, a feeling of peace filling his body as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I’m just going for every trope I can at this point, I love this cute fluffy shit. So uh touch deprived!Mat for your reading pleasure.
> 
> I haven't got new chapters written up, so we're back on hold for a few weeks until inspiration hits and I write another 10,000 words at once

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Book 1, starts at page 484 in my copy of the book. The narrative follows the storyline of Mat and Rand on their GayVenture to Caemlyn.


End file.
